


A Voice Like No Other

by sebthealienn



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-02-12 14:29:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12961368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebthealienn/pseuds/sebthealienn
Summary: Chester's life sucks. His mom left his family, he barely sees his dad because of his job, he gets bullied at school, he has depression and has self-harmed, and he has no idea what to do with his future. That is, until Mike, the popular boy who has a band, steps into his life and changes it, for the better. Bennoda.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-read!! All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

To be honest, Chester should have expected the first punch. He heard something crack dully as Jason's hard fist pummeled into the side of his face, and his head snapped to the side with the hit's pressure. He shut his eyes, internally cursing, trying desperately to not make any sounds of pain or discomfort. Another punch, this time in the stomach, and he folded into himself, unable to stifle a cry of pain as his entire abdomen churned. Jason's sidekick, Mark, shoved him down onto the asphalt of the schoolyard. Chester gasped, hot tears welling in his eyes as he raised a shaking hand to his cheek. It would definitely be bruised later.

"Faggot! Serves you right for not letting me cheat on the exam!" Jason sneered, kicking him square in the chest and then on the back and sides as Chester, now sobbing loudly and gasping for air, curled into a small ball.

"It's not like I would have gotten the right answers." Chester's voice, soft and hoarse, was merely more than a whisper.

Jason didn't appreciate his input, apparently, because he was picked up by the collar by the larger, more muscular boy, and he was hanging in midair, struggling, punching and kicking, all with no avail. "What the fuck did you say, bitch? Did I ask you to reply?" And there it was: the cue. Kyle, the last sidekick, punched him square in the nose, and the crack that echoed through the schoolyard and the immense pain that washed over Chester's face was unmistakeable. He hoped his nose wasn't broken. He was thrown down against the brick school wall, hitting his head on it as he landed roughly on his elbows. "I hope you've learned your lesson, fag."

And off they went, high-fiving each other and laughing, while Chester was left, hurt and bleeding, on the ground. His nose was bleeding, for one, there was a small cut on his cheek from the impact of the first punch, the hit his head took from the wall was slightly bleeding too, and then there were the countless other bruises and bloody cuts on his body. His stomach ached, and he leaned over and vomited, heaving up stomach acid and the little amount of food he had consumed that day.

He wiped the tears away, wincing as he tried to get up but his knees buckled under him, and then just simply sat against the brick wall, breathing heavily, his entire body hurting. Just as he was fading into a light sleep, someone was next to him on the ground, a warm hand on his shoulder and a voice, filled with concern. "Shit, are you alright? Are you okay? Can you see me? How many fingers am I holding up? What happened?"

Chester's eyes opened painfully, and slowly focused onto another boy, seemingly from Asian descent. He had a handsome face, with dark spiky hair, dark, friendly eyes, and a good taste in clothing. He was holding up five fingers, which Chester didn't bother acknowledging.

"I-" he broke off, coughing hoarsely once. "I'm fine." He shook the boy's hand off, then slowly struggled to his feet, his head immediately spinning. The boy supported him before he could stumble.

"You're obviously not okay. Sit back down."

And Chester did, because clearly this guy wasn't going to take no for an answer. He sat there, leaning against the wall, as the strange boy pressed his hoodie to the back of Chester's head, and gave him a tissue to stop the nosebleed. It wasn't much, but it helped. "Here. Drink this. You look dehydrated." Water. Chester gratefully took it, drinking viciously, as if he hadn't seen water for months. His vision was clearer now, and the pain in his head was ebbing away as the bleeding stopped. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" The boy asked.

"I... I don't think so. My stomach is going to be bruised, though." At that quiet, shy answer, the boy sighed.

"Bullies. Stupid, ignorant jerks." He placed a comforting hand on Chester's shoulder. "Here. Can you stand up now?" Chester, with the help of the boy, got to his feet, and to his surprise, was able to stand up.

"Thanks," he mumbled, tired and aching.

The boy smiled softly, not taking the pressure off of the bleeding on the back of Chester's head. "Don't thank me. It's the least I could do, seeing you almost unconscious on the ground. I thought you were dead at first glance, no joke." A pause, as he made sure the bleeding had stopped. "What's your name?"

"Chester. Chester Bennington."

The boy's dark eyes twinkled. "Chester? That's a nice name. I'm Mike Shinoda."

"I know," Chester replied, then realized how creepy he was sounding, and panicked. "I mean, we go to the same school so I've seen you around, obviously, and I think we have some classes together-"

Mike was laughing, a loud laugh that made his eyes crinkle up. "Calm down, dude. I've seen you around too. It's all good."

"I should... I should probably get home," Chester said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "My dad will be worried."

"Do you need a ride? I don't want you walking around with bruises on your face."

"I'll be fine, my house is-"

Mike cut him off, grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the street. "Don't be ridiculous! My car is right there!"

"We just met," Chester found himself sitting in the passenger seat of Mike's car, smiling softly as the other boy climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. "You don't even know me."

"Yes I do! You're Chester!" Mike shot him a glance, accompanied with a warm smile.

Chester rolled his eyes, simply giving Mike his address and looking out the window, trying to ignore the annoying pain in his face and in his stomach as Mike drove, navigating the car through traffic lights and other cars. He didn't notice Mike talking to him until he heard him snapping his fingers in front of his eyes. "Chaz?"

Chester gave him a look. "Chaz?"

Mike shrugged, grinning. "Your new nickname. It suits you. Are you okay? You were staring into space."

"Me? Oh yeah, I'm fine. You were asking me something?"

"Yeah." Mike turned his attention back to the road, making a sharp right turn after a red light turned green. "How old are you?"

"Um..." Chester hesitated. "Eighteen."

"So you're a senior?" Mike saw his nod, then smiled again. "Lucky. I'm a junior. Just turned seventeen a couple months ago."

"Oh," said Chester. Part of him was embarrassed and humiliated that someone younger than him had just helped him so much, but part of him was already trusting Mike. That's when Mike pulled up next to Chester's house, parking on the side of the road. "Thank you," he said, nodding toward the boy in the driver's seat as he unbuckled himself and started toward the door. "I'll take it from here."

Mike made a sudden noise of protest, quickly launching out of his car and bounding toward Chester like an excited puppy. "Wait," he gasped, "Can I have your phone?" The request puzzled and surprised Chester even more, but nevertheless he took out his phone and handed it over.

"Why?"

"I just want to give you my phone number. Here, give me yours!" Mike reassured him, placing his own phone in the older boy's hands. Chester, feeling a bit weird with someone else's phone in his hands, went to Contacts and entered his phone number, writing the contact name as 'Chester'. Without saying anything, he and Mike exchanged phones again, and checked the numbers to make sure they were right.

Chester stifled a laugh. "Mikey?" The contact name for Mike had been put in as 'Mikey', which for some reason was funny to him.

Mike smiled, shaking his head, as he began to delete, then type something. "You need to be more creative, Chester. Your new contact name is 'Chazzy Chaz', no matter how much you try to convince me otherwise."

Chester simply shook his head, grinning softly. "Um... I should probably get going. I don't want to keep you. Thanks for everything." He gave Mike a shy smile, then watched him wave happily before getting into his car and driving away, disappearing around the corner of the street within seconds. Chester climbed the stairs to his front door and fished his keys out of his backpack, unlocking it and finding the house empty. Like always. He didn't know why he expected a different outcome everyday. 

His father worked all day, every day, and usually he came home after midnight, when Chester was too tired to have an actual conversation with him. He wasn't in any way a bad dad, but Chester missed the relationship he had with him before his mom left them a few years ago, and before he got this new job. Before his dad got this job, he would fix up an after-school snack for Chester every day, so at least he would get some food into his system. Nowadays, he just walked past the kitchen and immediately headed upstairs, tossing his beat-down backpack onto the unmade bed and taking out his lyrics book.

His hidden passion for songwriting and singing was one of the only things that comforted him; that made him happy. He loved it. His lyrics book was filled with meaningful lyrics and songs that he personally thought were perfectly describing his life. Whenever he was alone at home or anywhere else, he would sing. Quietly, and without the screaming, but he would sing. Well... sometimes he screamed, if it had been a really bad day. It helped ease the pain. The latest song was called Numb.

He sat on the edge of the bed in his bedroom, humming a melody, then singing: "I'm tired of being what you want me to be, feeling so faithless, lost under the surface, don't know what you're expecting from me, put under the pressure of walking in your shoes..."

He spent the remainder of the day singing, writing lyrics, and playing his old guitar which he sucked at anyway. Before he knew it, it was nearing midnight and the door opened from downstairs. "Chester?" It was his father. "Chester, I'm home! Where are you?"

"Up here," Chester called, quickly hiding the lyrics book and instead throwing himself onto his bed to make it look like he wasn't doing anything. It wasn't that his musical talent wasn't encouraged by his father, it was that Chester was quite embarrassed whenever anyone found anything he wrote or demanded to hear him sing.

He heard his dad ascending the stairs, and he knocked on the bedroom door, creaking it open without waiting for an answer. He smiled softly when he saw his son on the bed, walking over and pressing a kiss to Chester's spiky bleached hair. "Hey, son, how are you?" Chester answered with a dull moan from the back of his throat. "How was school?" That's when his father saw the bruises. "Who did that to you?"

Shit. Chester panicked, sitting up instantly. "Um, I tripped and fell down the stairs at school, but I'm fine now, I promise!" If that wasn't the worst lie he had ever told, he didn't know what was.

"So that's why your arms are dotted with bruises too? And why your nose looks all... ruined?"

"It's not broken," Chester said defeatedly, looking down at his hands and his arms. He was wearing a long-sleeved hoodie but the sleeves had managed to slide up a bit, revealing the bruises on his forearms. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the thin, jagged white and pink scars on his wrists, under the bruises. He was lucky his father hadn't mentioned those yet. He was just beginning to get over cutting, but a relapse could happen any day, and talking about self-harming just made him want to do it more.

"You told me the bullying had stopped, Chester." The hurt was visible in his father's eyes, as he knelt down by the bed. "I believed you, too. Is there something you want to tell me?"

"It's not that bad," the eighteen-year-old boy defended himself, "I can handle it on my own."

His father exhaled deeply, concern etched onto his face. "Listen, Chester, I love you very much, but I can't help you if you don't come to me for help. If you don't talk about it no one can help. Remember the... cutting?" Silence. Hurt flashed in Chester's eyes, but he said nothing for a while, pulling his sleeves down to cover the faint cuts and the purple bruises.

"I'm fine," he repeated, this time more coldly and defensively than before. He said nothing else as his father gave another defeated sigh, standing up and giving him another kiss on the top of his bleached head.

The moment the door to his room closed, he turned over violently so that he was staring at the window. He was fine.

After all, he wasn't sure anyone would understand, anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for mentions of self-harm!

As the next few days passed, Chester forgot all about the way Mike had saved him from the bullies and found himself envying the boy and being jealous of him. He was good-looking, had a well-fed but solid body, wasn't under or overweight, was popular, and actually had friends. 

This was observed during study hall, when Chester was working on long-overdue history homework while also looking at Mike, who was sitting in the center of a group of boys, all talking and laughing and smacking each other jokingly. The only times Chester got smacked was when he was being pummeled into the ground by Jason and his minions. Mark and Kyle followed him everywhere and did his bidding. It was disgusting, the way they looked up to him like he was some kind of king. A god. They practically worshipped him.

He sighed, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to the half-finished history essay. Mike probably didn't really care about him. It was all pity and sympathy when he found him nearly unconscious on the ground, but in reality Mike didn't even remember he existed. He probably already deleted the number in his phone. Unable to stand the laughing and chattering wafting in from all around him, he pulled out his earbuds and plugged them into his ears, turning on some rock music. Metallica. One of his favorites.

The bell rang before he could complete the already-late assignment, but to be honest Chester couldn't care less. In a few months he would be free of high school, and he wasn't planning on going to college anyway, because of his lacking intelligence, so all he had to do was find a stable job and he was all set for life. He sighed, getting up and practically running out of the room, headed straight for his locker. The plan was to deposit any unneeded books or binders in the locker and to grab everything he needed for the next class and get on his merry way before Jason caught up to him. Unfortunately, he must've been too slow anyway, because three large, tall, buff guys were milling around his locker, seemingly waiting for someone. Chester swallowed thickly, walking up to them and unlocking the lock on his locker and pushing the books in, grabbing out his English textbook. "Hey, fag. You look especially anorexic today, don't you think, Kyle?"

Kyle nodded enthusiastically. Mark, though the question wasn't aimed at him, nodded either way. Chester tried to ignore them, pushing past them roughly and attempting to simply walk away without suffering the consequences. Apparently this was not what Jason liked, and he was then slammed against the locker. The breath knocked out of him, Chester was vulnerable, and he didn't even try to defend himself as he suffered blow after blow to his stomach. His abdomen felt like it was going to explode with pain, and he felt nauseous, too, but he just stood there, knees shaking, unable to move.

"Let's go," Jason said when the bell rang for the next class. By now the hallways were empty, so there was no one available to help. 

Chester weakly dragged himself to the boys' bathroom, locking himself in a stall and sitting against the wall, tucking his knees into his chest, ignoring the searing pain this position caused. The tears crept into his eyes and he silently cried, letting a few wet sobs escape him. He didn't even notice the bathroom door open.

"Hello?" Someone knocked on the stall door. "Is everything okay?"

Mike. Chester took a strangled breath. "Uh... yeah."

"Oh, it's you." The realization and disappointment laced in Mike's voice sent a pang of helplessness through Chester's body. "Chester? What happened? Can you open the stall, please?"

"I'd rather not," Chester replied softly.

An awkward silence followed; the only sounds being Chester's ragged breathing, and the shuffling of Mike's sneakers on the linoleum bathroom floor. "Chaz, I know you probably don't hear this enough, but I actually do want to help you." 

Chester inhaled sharply. He got to his feet slowly. "... Why?" The pain swarmed his body, coming in waves that made him feel sick to his stomach. 

"Why?" Mike's tone was incredulous. "What do you mean, why? Everyone has the right to be helped. No one deserves to be treated the way these dicks are treating you. Especially you. You've done nothing."

"You don't know that," Chester gave a cold laugh. "Maybe I don't deserve your help."

"Don't say that. Please open up." There came another set of soft, sheepish knocks on the stall door. "Even if you don't deserve my help, I want you to receive it. Please?"

With a shaky sigh, Chester unlocked the stall and pushed the door open, marching out and beginning to wash his hands, scrubbing them raw as he avoided eye contact with Mike. He couldn't bear to see the worry and sympathy that were undoubtedly there. 

Mike didn't leave. Instead, he seemed to inch closer, eyes fixed on Chester, who was still focused on his hands. "Are you okay?"

"Me?" Chester gave up on inspecting his hands and began adjusting the small bleached blond spikes of hair on his head, not realizing that the question was genuinely directed at him with the intention of getting a satisfactory answer. "Oh. Yeah. I'm fine."

"You say that a lot," Mike observed, flashing a slight smirk. Chester bit his lip, not knowing what to say. It was true. It was his answer to nearly everything, because it seemed believable. No one had ever questioned that before... until Mike. "You know," Mike continued, "Lunch is next period. Care to join me?" The offer was so sudden and so new that Chester nearly choked on his own saliva, coughing harshly.

"I... um... I guess?"

Mike positively beamed, giving him a blinding grin in response. "Awesome! Meet me by the oak tree in the schoolyard, okay?" His happiness was incredibly contagious, because Chester found a smile on his lips as well, as he nodded.

*****

"Why do you do it?"

Chester put down his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, frowning at Mike, who was devouring a salad next to him. Healthy bastard. "Why do I do what?" He asked.

Mike chewed, swallowed, then motioned casually toward Chester's wrists. His hoodie sleeves had ridden up, exposing his wrists again. The bruises on his arms were mostly gone now, and whenever he looked at his wrists and forearms he immediately saw the criss-crossing cuts. There were a few new ones; not much, but there were times where he just couldn't take it anymore. "Cutting. Why? You don't deserve it."

Chester stayed silent, not bothering to shoo a nosy fly away from his sandwich as it buzzed around. "I don't know," he sighed, "I guess it has something to do with my depression. Self-hatred and self-harming add up, don't they?" He instinctively tugged on the sleeves, covering the scars.

"You have depression? Medically diagnosed?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." Mike looked down, picking at something in his salad. "That explains a lot. Um... do you go to therapy or something?"

Chester shook his head, now completely ignoring the sandwich. He wasn't hungry anymore. "I did. Not now. I told my dad it made me feel worse and he canceled my appointments and... well... not going is sort of a... relief to me, in a way. I don't know." He caught the worry reflected in Mike's eyes, then quickly added: "I don't cut as much as I did before. It's getting better. Though the bullying isn't helping much." He refused to look anywhere but at his hands, knowing Mike was still looking at him with the same look of concern and sorrow. The same look. He despised it.

"Are you suicidal?" Mike asked, and Chester didn't know how to respond at first, because he did often have suicidal thoughts but he was always stopped by someone before he could manage to actually do anything.

"Not exactly. I've never attempted but... I've wanted to. Many times." Chester felt Mike move a bit closer to him, but he didn't move away when the other boy's hand came to rest on the small of his back.

They said nothing, instead cuddling together a bit. A bit nervous, Chester let Mike do all the work, wrapping an arm fully around the smaller boy's shoulders, pulling him closer to him. Chester had never been this close with someone who wasn't his family, and therefore his heartbeat got faster and he began to flush an embarrassing red color, pushing his glasses up. Mike leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of Chester's head, lips barely touching the small spikes of hair. "You don't deserve any of it, you know." Chester was now so close to him he could feel the vibrations in Mike's chest when he talked.

He said nothing in reply, letting his head fall onto Mike's shoulder, tucking his legs into his chest. For some reason, he liked this.

He felt Mike's warm breath on his forehead, and the younger boy's lips brushed over Chester's temple. And then, just as Chester was getting the courage to close his eyes, the bell rang, and he shot up, out of Mike's warm, comfortable embrace, grabbing his backpack and sending an apologetic glance toward Mike. "I'm sorry," he gasped, tears welling in his eyes. "I have to go." And he swung his backpack onto one shoulder and practically ran to the school, ignoring Mike's incoherent shouts behind him.

Even as he headed towards his next class, he cursed himself. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Why'd he run? This was a guy who actually liked him and wanted to be his friend and he ran the moment he felt genuinely comfortable around him? 

Stupid, stupid, STUPID! 

Then again, when was he not stupid?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit more fluffy :)))

Chester managed to get out of school without running into Mike or Jason, which was absolute success. He went straight home, going up to his room the moment he set foot in the house. Pulling out his phone, he noticed something he had nearly never seen before. 

A text? 

Specifically, texts. From none other than Mike Shinoda. Chester groaned, forgetting that they had exchanged numbers the first day they talked, but opened the texts anyway.

Mikey: Chester?

Mikey: Chaz? What happened?

Mikey: Are you okay?

Mikey: Is it something I did?

Mikey: I'm sorry...?

The warmth in Chester's heart spread throughout his entire body as he read the messages, and though he would never admit it to anyone, ever, he was secretly grateful that Mike had taken the time to type and send these texts, just to see if he was okay. Maybe he really did want to be friends, and Chester was just overthinking the entire situation, like he always did? Most likely. He cleared his throat, crawling onto his bed and contemplating what to do. Should he send texts back? Apologize for running off? Make his existence known in any way? 

It was probably the right thing to do, because he had already read the messages and Mike would see that he read them, too, so it was reasonable.

Chazzy-Chaz: Hey.

Obviously, Chester wasn't very good with emotions, or social situations, but nevertheless he tapped the Send button and watched the message send. He shut the phone, placing it on the farthest edge of the bed before taking his lyrics book out.

It wasn't long before there was a low buzzing sound, and the phone's screen lit up. A text.

Mikey: Chaz! I was worried! Are you okay?

Chester exhaled deeply, part of him wanting to ignore the text and part of him itching to respond. The latter part won.

Chazzy-Chaz: I'm fine, Mike.

The phone buzzed again, almost immediately.

Mikey: Good!

Mikey: Did I do something wrong today?

Now, Chester was conflicted. What was the right way to answer that question? He didn't know exactly why he ran off so unexpectedly; maybe it was the bell and the fear of getting beat up by Jason and his minions, or maybe... it was his social anxiety acting up? He didn't know.

Chazzy-Chaz: No. I'm sorry I ran. It wasn't your fault.

Mikey: It's okay.

Mikey: So.

Mikey: What are you up to?

At first, Chester felt defensive when it came to mentioning songwriting, but he realized this was Mike. He probably had no interest in any of that music stuff anyway.

He bit his lip as he typed.

Chazzy-Chaz: Songwriting.

Mikey: Oh, you write songs? Awesome! Do you sing too?

Chazzy-Chaz: I'm bad at it, but yeah.

Mikey: You should join my band!

Mikey: We're looking for a vocalist!

What the fuck. Chester's breath caught, his hands already beginning to tremble. Mike had a band?! 

Chazzy-Chaz: I don't sing well. You wouldn't want me.

Mikey: Sing for me. 

Mikey: I'll decide that for myself, yeah?

Chazzy-Chaz: I don't know...

Mikey: Come on! Do you have Skype? Log on and give me your username and I'll call you and you can sing something for me!

Chazzy-Chaz: Chesterbe.

Mikey: Is that your Skype?

Chazzy-Chaz: Yes.

Before he actually understood what was happening, he was getting a Skype call. He logged in and accepted it after having a mini panic attack, seeing Mike's smiling face gazing straight at him. Chester felt self-consciousness wash over him at the sight of Mike, who still looked good, though it was two hours since school. Chester, on the other hand, looked like a homeless person.

"Chaz!" Mike's voice, though computerized and a bit glitchy, was still ecstatic. "Hey!"

"Hi, Mike." Chester gave him a small wave and a shy smile.

"It's much better seeing you in person, you know." Mike added, voice soft and genuine.

Chester couldn't stop the blush forming on his cheeks, pulling the beanie he was wearing over his forehead. "Thanks...?"

Mike chuckled, shaking his head in some sort of show of amusement. "You're welcome," he grinned, sending Chester a small wink before returning to the thing the older boy was dreading. "So. You'll sing something for me?" Chester bit his lower lip, not knowing whether he would have the guts to sing something aloud.

"Do you want me to?"

The other boy nodded enthusiastically, as if Chester singing had been his dying wish and he was now going to experience it. For all he knew, that could've been what was happening. He barely knew Mike, after all. "O-okay. Um... what song?"

"Could you do one of yours? The ones you wrote?" Mike questioned, obviously wanting a yes in response, and Mike looked so hopeful and happy that Chester would have felt a bit guilty saying anything else.

"Alright. Uh, let me get my... lyrics book." And he crawled to the other side of the bed, grabbing his lyrics book and flipping through the pages to find a song that wouldn't entirely embarrass him. He didn't want to scream just yet, either, in case Mike's band wasn't into that type of screamo rock thing. "How does 'In Between' sound?" He asked the younger boy as he settled back in front of the laptop.

"Great!" Mike was smiling widely, sitting back against some pillows, eyes shining.

Chester swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath before starting slow and quiet, but gaining passion and volume as he went on.

"Let me apologize to begin with, let me apologize for what I'm about to say... but trying to be genuine was harder than it seemed, and somehow I got caught up in between. Let me apologize to begin with, let me apologize for what I'm about to say, but trying to be someone else was harder than it seemed, and somehow I got caught up in between, between my pride, and my promise. Between my lies, and how the truth gets in the way. The things I want to say to you get lost before they come, the only thing that's worse than one is none..." he opened his eyes, tears instantly welling up as he saw Mike, looking shell-shocked, not saying anything. 

At first Chester thought the screen had froze, but then Mike cleared his throat and shifted on the pillows, sitting up. "Chester," he said, eyes wide and fixed on the screen, "Chester, that was incredible. Absolutely incredible."

Chester flushed under the compliment, shutting his lyrics book and pushing it away from him. "I... um... it wasn't that good, but thanks." His reply seemed to have a serious impact on Mike, because his face paled slightly and his eyes bulged out, mouth nearly falling open in shock.

"What do you mean, it wasn't that good? That was amazing! You're fucking amazing, and I need you in my band, stat!" Mike was laughing, the shine in his dark eyes was back, and Chester couldn't help but smile.

"I'll... think about it, okay?"

Mike fist-pumped, then stopped. "Is that the only thing you do? Like is that the only music you write? Because Hybrid Theory, my band, is more focused on rock and maybe even screamo, but you can't scream, can you?"

"Um, I do rock, too. And alternative. And... um... about the screamo you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?" Chester grinned when Mike pouted, giving him puppy-dog eyes, but he didn't budge.

"So you do screamo, then. Please join the band," Mike pleaded jokingly.

Chester, now feeling more comfortable after belting out the song, shrugged. "I'll have to ask my dad first. And, uh, who else is in the band?"

"It's just five of us, including me. Other than me, there's Rob, Brad, Joe, and Dave, who we call Phoenix. They're really cool guys."

"Oh, um..." Chester chewed on the inside of his cheek, blushing. That was a lot of people he didn't know, and he didn't know if he was entirely comfortable with it. Mike raised an eyebrow at him, seemingly noticing why the older boy was nervous.

"Don't worry, I'll introduce you to them. They're really awesome, trust me." Mike smiled softly, his dark brown eyes doe-like.

"I... okay." Now more confident, he allowed himself to grin. "Okay. Okay."

Mike looked victorious as his smile widened. "You'll join?"

"I..." Chester's cheeks turned a darker red than before. "I guess so."

With Mike sporting the biggest smile Chester had ever seen a human being have, they continued to talk, Chester getting increasingly comfortable. Before he knew it, Mike had to log off to go eat, and the older boy was left in the silence of his room, smiling uncontrollably as he flopped back down on his bed. He had never actually talked to someone for that long without feeling uncomfortable. Mike was... special.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm enjoying writing this, so here you go!

"You seem happy today," Chester's dad observed as the boy slid into his chair at the dinner table.

"I can't be in a good mood?" The boy raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of water, leaning against the chair. 

His father shrugged, swallowing a bite of mashed potatoes. "I didn't say that. I love when you're in a good mood, it just... it doesn't happen very often," he said simply.

Silence. Chester didn't know what to say, though they both knew that was true. He cleared his throat and reached for the saltshaker in the middle of the table, shaking it violently over his plate.

"I didn't want it to come out sounding that way," his father commented meekly. Chester refused to meet his eyes as he picked at his food. "I just wanted to ask what you were so happy about. Never mind," he sighed. "Eat."

Chester shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

His dad didn't bother arguing, and gave a snort, not saying anything else as he turned back to his meal. "Suit yourself."

They sat in more uncomfortable silence, his father eating while Chester, who wasn't actually very hungry at the moment, continued to stab his meat with a fork. Finally unable to keep up with the silence in the house, he took a breath and looked up. "I... met this guy the other day." He blushed when his dad's head whipped up, staring at his son in shock. "He helped me when these other guys beat me up. I guess we're... friends now...?"

"Really? That's great." 

Chester could tell his dad wanted to sound enthusiastic and helpful, but honestly the comment sounded forced and awkward. This didn't stop the boy from opening up further. "He's a junior, and his name is Mike, and he has a band, and we skyped today before you came home. He convinced me to sing for him and said I should join his band because they need a vocalist, and I said I'd think about it, but I don't know?"

"Well, do you want to join?"

"I mean, I do, but-"

"But what?" The corner of his dad's mouth lifted in a smile. "If you want to be in a band, go ahead."

"Really?" Chester's eyes widened. "You're letting me? You don't even know him."

His father scoffed, shoveling more mashed potatoes into his mouth. "Chester, you're eighteen. I don't control you anymore. Go join a band if you want to." He swallowed the food, stopping his eating only to send his son a pointed look.

"O-okay! Okay! I'll call him!" Chester sat up straighter, fork in his hand, eyes shining with excitement. "I'll call him, and I'll tell him I'm joining!"

"That's my boy," his father laughed. "I'm proud of you, Chester," his father stated, giving him a huge smile.

Chester grinned back, then stood up and raced upstairs.

*****

It was a Friday. Chester enjoyed Fridays because sometimes his dad would be allowed to come home early and maybe, just maybe, he would have gotten pizza or Chinese takeout or something, so they could at least hang out for a few hours. However, first there was school, which Chester was not at all excited about. Plus, he was exhausted. He had woken up late today, which was only the start of the disastrous events that followed: they were out of toothpaste, so Chester had to locate the extra tube in the closet, which put him back ten minutes, because apparently his father thought it would be clever to hide the toothpaste tubes in the very back of the already crowded closet. Also, he had to grab an apple on his way out, finishing and getting to the bus stop before remembering he forgot his bus card at home, which resulted in him sprinting as fast as physically possible to his house and returning with the card just to make it onto the late bus. He got to school halfway through first period.

Just as he thought it wouldn't- couldn't get much worse, there was the fact that he failed his math test, and forgot a couple homework assignments that he promised to give in the following week, but, knowing him, that homework would never be completed anyway. Chester couldn't suppress his relief when the end of the day rolled around. 

"Hey," said a familiar voice. "I got your texts last night!"

Chester was unable to keep the small smile off his face. "And?"

Mike Shinoda was now walking next to him, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his dark eyes shining with an emotion Chester couldn't place a finger on. "And? And I'm ecstatic that a musical genius like you actually wanted to join my shitty band!"

Chester flushed, shaking his head. "Don't exaggerate," he chuckled softly, keeping his head down. "I'm not that good, and I don't think your band is as shitty as you say it is, either."

They walked in silence for a bit, until Mike stopped by his car. "Want a ride?"

The older boy shrugged. "I don't know. I don't want to bother you."

"You won't bother me, I promise," Mike told him, persisting by opening the passenger seat door. "If I don't drive you, you'll have to walk. It's a pretty long way, you know."

Chester turned his head, giving Mike a glance. "I like walking."

The dark-haired boy rolled his eyes. "Get in."

The ride back was uneventful. They didn't talk much, which Chester was perfectly fine with, to be honest. He spent the time looking out the window at the passing houses and stores and observed people walking by, while biting his lip ring. It was a habit he couldn't break... he had been doing it ever since his dad finally let him get a lip ring: two years ago in his sophomore year of high school. A couple times, specifically at red lights, Mike would look over at him and just stare at him for a few seconds, as if he wanted to say something, but he never seemed to actually say it.

Mike pulled up right in front of Chester's house. "Thanks," Chester said, beginning to get out of the car, when Mike cleared his throat, stopping him.

"Are you okay?"

Chester paused, rethinking the question a few times before sighing and shaking his head. "Just a bad day, you know?"

Mike's eyes were sympathetic. "Will you be okay?"

The emotion in that one line was too much for Chester to handle, and he found himself stuttering, unable to form words. "S-sure," he nodded rapidly. "Yeah. Sure. Thanks." 

The hurt was visible in Mike's eyes. "Okay. See you tomorrow, I guess?"

Chester didn't answer, instead giving him a little nod and slamming the door, bounding up to his house and taking a deep breath, turning around to see the car disappearing around the corner. You're an absolute idiot.

He rang the doorbell, but no one answered. Chester sighed in annoyance, unlocking the door with his keys and entering, being greeted with silence. His dad wasn't home.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like this one... *wink wink*

The doorbell rang at five in the morning, and Chester was sure of the fact that whoever it was, once he opened the door, would die. Definitely, they would pay the price for waking him up early on a Saturday. Of course, when he opened his front door looking like he had been thrown in a garbage disposal, he wasn't expecting the one and only Mike Shinoda to be standing on his doorstep. Chester blinked. "What the fuck."

"Good morning," said Mike, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Did I wake you up?" He asked, flashing his signature smile.

"Take a wild guess," Chester snapped, instantly regretting being so harsh. "Sorry. Why are you here?"

Mike startled into action at the question, reaching into his hoodie pocket and ceremoniously producing a rumpled beanie that Chester quickly recognized as his. "You left this in my car when you ran off yesterday. I just noticed today, so I decided to drop it off here before I forgot." He extended his arm, holding the beanie out. 

Chester took it and looked it over, confirming that it was, in fact, his beanie. So that's where it went. He looked back up at Mike, still not comprehending why the dude was at his door so early. "Mike, it's five in the morning," he commented blankly.

"I know," Mike shrugged. 

The older boy ran a hand through his horrendously messy bleached hair. "You do realize you could have given it to me on Monday at school, right? It would have let me have enough sleep, at least."

"I'm sorry, but..." Mike stopped, biting his lip nervously. "... I wanted to see you."

Chester froze, lips opening slightly. "... Oh."

Mike shook his head violently, taking a step backwards from the door. "I'm really sorry for bothering you," he said in a rushed voice, the redness in his cheeks showing the embarrassment he was feeling at the confession, "I should probably get going."

"Why?"

He turned his head, staring straight at Chester, confused. "What?"

"Why'd you want to see me?" Chester asked softly, clutching the beanie tightly.

Mike chewed on his lip, clearly not knowing what to say. Chester felt a sort of ache in his stomach as he waited for Mike's answer, not knowing what he should expect from him. "Just... I don't know." Mike huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I wanted to ask you something, but I guess it can wait."

"Ask. You're here anyway."

"Okay." Mike took a deep breath. "You know the coffee shop a few streets from the school? Well, it's the weekend and I have nothing to do and so I thought that we could... um... you know..."

Chester blushed, looking down at his bare feet. "Are you trying to ask me out?"

The younger boy smiled softly, linking his hands behind his back as he rocked back and forth on his feet. "If I was, would you say yes?"

Chester swallowed the lump in his throat. "I... um... sure? I mean," he blinked, "yes."

"Great!" Mike's face instantly transformed into an expression of success, then raised an eyebrow. "Do you want it to be a date?"

Chester couldn't help but crack a smile at the word. Date. It was so cheesy and unnatural for him to be going on his first ever date, and it was with a guy he had met personally just over two weeks ago. "When will you pick me up?"

At that, Mike lit up again. "How's noon?"

"Perfect."

*****

Mike liked his coffee black, no sugars or cream at all. Chester found this immensely interesting, and a bit scarring, because he was currently dumping in his third packet of sugar, and he still had to stir in his cream. When he finished his beverage, he dug around in his pocket for his wallet, but he was stopped by a hand on the small of his back. Mike leaned in, letting their shoulders touch. "Don't even try it. I'm paying."

Chester should've expected this, honestly, so he shook his head and collected his coffee, giving the barista a shy smile before shuffling over to an empty booth and sliding in. He watched Mike pay, making some kind of comment that caused the barista girl to laugh loudly as he received his change and turned around, looking around blankly before spotting Chester sitting in the back of the shop, and walking toward him. When he sat down, neither of them spoke, but instead just sat there, Mike taking rhythmic sips of his coffee while Chester just looked at it, then at Mike, then back at the brown liquid in front of him.

He found himself staring at Mike, noticing the most random things about him. He had small hairs starting to grow from his chin, and he had perfect skin, with almost no pimples or acne or scars or anything of the sort, which Chester envied tremendously. His eyes were this rich dark brown, so dark that if he wasn't creepily observing the boy now, they would have looked black. His lips weren't chapped, like Chester's often were, and instead looked soft and smooth and plump, and definitely kissable. What the fuck?

Chester shook his head, snapping out of his trance and blinking, taking his first sip of coffee. He hoped that Mike didn't notice him staring, but he knew that even if he did notice, he wouldn't bring it up just to embarrass him. Finally the silence became too unbearable, and Chester cleared his throat, making Mike look up at him questioningly. "Tell me about your friends."

The question made Mike smile fondly as he gripped the coffee cup in both hands. "Well, they're all amazing. There's Joe, Brad, Rob, and Dave. Joe loves jokes... any jokes, really. Practical jokes, knock-knock jokes, anything. He's our turntablist and our DJ. Brad is our lead guitarist. He's really smart, and he's a bit of a realist sometimes but we all love him... he loves to juggle, and that's one of his biggest hobbies, which is interesting." Mike laughed, shaking his head. "Rob is the drummer, and he's freakishly tall. He's funny, and he's pretty reckless, and loves horror movies. And then there's Dave, but everyone calls him Phoenix because of... um... either because of his red hair or because he just likes the name. He's our bassist. He's really cool too, but we don't know him as well because he joined only a few weeks ago while the others have been around for maybe... a year or two."

Chester nodded. "They sound great," he said kindly, noticing how much love Mike had for his friends. They must be the guys he always hangs out with at school.

He sighed, turning his attention back to his cup of coffee, stirring it violently, but controlled enough so none would drop onto the table, watching the liquid swirl around. It was calming in a way, and he felt a surge of power when he changed the direction of his stirring and the coffee started swirling the opposite way. 

"Chazzy-Chaz?" Mike's amused voice cut through his whimsical thoughts. "Did you hear anything I just said to you?"

Chester flushed red, because, clearly, he had not. "No, sorry."

Mike giggled, eyes shining as he reached over and patted Chester's shoulder, once, then twice, then retracted his hand to his side. "I asked if you knew when you wanted to meet them. I was thinking we could do a rehearsal tomorrow and you could come and sing for them." He repeated patiently.

"Oh," said Chester, a bit overwhelmed at the sudden proposition. "I don't know."

"About what?" Mike cocked his head to the side, taking a huge gulp from his cup. "The singing? Don't worry, you'll do awesome."

"You don't know that," the older boy protested, feeling his stomach clench with just the thought of singing in front of more people he didn't know. "Maybe I'll mess up and embarrass myself? Maybe I'll have a heart attack and die? Maybe I'll slip and break my leg or something, and I'll humiliate myself on front of everyone?"

Mike chuckled, the smile on his face not wavering at all. "I highly doubt anything like that will happen, Chester. Trust me, they'll hear one word from your mouth and they'll be dying for you to join!"

"Are you that desperate for a lead singer?"

Both of them let out awkward laughs, before Chester coughed lightly and clasped his hands together under the table. "Tomorrow is fine," he stated confidently (at least he hoped he sounded confident).

A smile tugged at the corners of Mike's lips. "Okay. I'll call them up later and tell them."

Chester smiled back. The coffee date dragged on and on as they talked, switching through one interesting topic to another. They laughed together and Mike told such funny stories that when Chester laughed, tears came to his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he had such a genuine conversation with someone. He lost track of time as they talked, and he was a bit shocked when the waitress came up to them and told them they had to either order something else or give up their booth to other customers. It was already around 5 in the evening.

They left, still laughing at Mike's last story, and ended up at the park somehow, just walking in silence throughout the cool autumn air. It was getting colder as time went on, and soon Chester was shivering and trying to suppress his coldness, cursing himself internally for only coming in a thin sweatshirt and for not thinking ahead. Mike wasn't blind, which was why he looked over and began taking off his sweater.

Chester, whose teeth were trying not to chatter as a particularly cold breeze blew past mercilessly, grimaced. "What are you doing?"

Mike rolled his eyes, gently throwing his sweater over Chester's shivering shoulders and then wrapping his arm around them, pulling the smaller boy close to him. They kept walking, and Chester didn't try to push him away. "You should learn to ask if you need help," Mike told him, out of nowhere.

"Is this about me being cold and not saying anything?" Chester's voice was bored, but inside he knew what Mike was telling him.

"A little bit, but mostly not." The half-Asian tightened his grip on Chester's shoulder, rubbing it a couple times. Chester would never admit it, but he was getting warmer. "Why do you hide from everyone? From your dad... from me... why do you refuse people when they try to help you?"

"I don't know. I guess it has something to do with fear. And," he bit his lip, "trust issues. Maybe people won't accept me for who I am. What if they say they want to help but really don't mean it?" He pushed his lips together, still chewing on his lip.

"Most people aren't like that," Mike responded quietly, obviously thinking of the right thing to say next.

Chester laughed emotionlessly, but still didn't make any attempts to push Mike away, instead finding himself walking even closer to him, hands in the pockets of Mike's cozy sweater. "Key word: most."

Mike huffed. "You're not really making this easy for me, Chazzy-Chaz."

"That nickname is ridiculous," the older boy barked out a disapproving laugh, but even though he hated the name with a burning passion, it made him feel warm inside whenever Mike called him that. Is that normal? Was he dying? 

Mike shook his head, leaning forward to press a spontaneous kiss to Chester's cheek. "Shut up," he said, and Chester could hear the mirth in his voice. "It's cute."

"You're cute," Chester retorted, then saw the blinding grin on Mike's smug face and realized what he said, before groaning loudly and bringing his arms up to cover his bright red face. "I fucked up," he whispered to himself, "I fucked up bad."

"You think I'm cute?" Mike taunted happily.

"I'm an idiot," Chester could feel the hotness on his face, and he was pretty sure he started sweating with humiliation. He tried to break out of Mike's grip, but he ended up struggling with no avail, as Mike had now wrapped his other arm around him too, beginning to laugh. Chester hid his face (it still looked like a tomato) into the taller boy's chest, refusing to look up.

"You're not an idiot," Mike assured him, loosening his grip and letting his arms fall to Chester's waist, where they remained. They stood across from each other, and when Chester got the courage to finally lift his head, their faces were mere inches apart. Mike opened his mouth to say something but then closed it, moving one hand from Chester's hip to cup his cheek in his palm, keeping the other hand on his waist. 

Chester was breathing hard, his heartbeat quickening as he moved a shaking hand to grip Mike's elbow, and right at that fateful moment got the urge to just lean a couple inches and kiss him. He could feel Mike's hot breath on his face. It smelled strongly of coffee, but Chester couldn't really care less. He was sure his breath smelled the same way. Mike's dark, thick eyelashes fluttered as they kept eye contact. 

"Can I kiss you?"

The question wasn't said; it was breathed, so gentle and so caring that Chester nearly didn't hear it, but he swallowed thickly and gave a nod, and before he knew it Mike's lips were on his and they were kissing, and to be perfectly honest Chester had never kissed anyone before, so he was just following Mike's lead, closing his eyes when he noticed Mike's were closed, and just felt himself melt into the kiss. Mike's lips were soft, and they tasted of, not surprisingly, coffee, but it was, for some weird reason, perfect. Chester tilted his head slightly to the right, and his mouth opened a little, just enough so Mike's tongue could prod at his lips. It was tender and soft and sweet and everything Chester could imagine it to be like, and he almost felt empty when they broke apart, both of them breathing loudly.

Chester was the first to laugh, ignoring the (probably) swollen state of his chapped lips and the redness of his cheeks. Mike joined in with his soft, low chuckling, and they stood there, still wrapped up in each other, just laughing. They got some weird looks from pedestrians passing by, but neither of them cared.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments; I'm so glad people are enjoying my story!

Chester couldn't remember the last time he had been so nervous. It wasn't a surprise that he was nervous, because in exactly ten minutes Michael Kenji Shinoda was supposed to pull up in front of the Bennington household, and he was going to drive them both to Joe Hahn's house, where they were holding band practice. Mike was expecting him to sing to them, and this was mostly the cause of Chester's anxiety, because Mike told him to prepare one of his original songs and it had taken a while to choose one. Eventually, Chester decided on Numb, mostly because of the fact that it was the least likely to embarrass him in front of four boys who he didn't know, and his... sort-of boyfriend.

The sort-of boyfriend label was a result of his and Mike's date the day before. After their kiss in the park, they walked around for about another hour, and Mike drove him home, dropping him off at his house and insisting to walk with him up to the front door because it was the "gentlemanly" thing to do, as the younger boy had said. Mike also asked him, nervously, Chester observed, if he would want to be his boyfriend, and when Chester hesitated, unable to form proper sentences, Mike panicked and offered the word "sort-of boyfriends". Chester had laughed and kissed Mike's nose, which was cold from the crisp evening air, before telling him that it was a good idea.

His dad wouldn't stop asking about Mike, and at first Chester felt flattered that his father was so interested in his personal life, but sooner or later the questions got a bit frustrating and Chester told him they were just friends. Although his father doubted that, he didn't say anything, which Chester was grateful for.

The car horn beeping downstairs made him jump up and grab his lyrics book. He bounded down the stairs and out the door, meeting Mike's eyes and giving him a soft smile as he sheepishly opened the passenger side door and climbed in, settling into the seat and pulling his seatbelt on. "Hey," Mike said, eyes warm.

"Hey," Chester replied, a lot more comfortable in the car now, than a couple days ago, when Mike first offered him a ride. That day seemed like so long ago now.

"Are you ready?" Mike asked, noticing the little black notebook Chester was holding.

"Not really, but I think I can do it." He paused, teasing his lip ring with his front teeth. "I brought my lyrics book," he added, holding it up as Mike began to drive, pulling back into the road.

"Which song did you pick? In Between?" Mike didn't look at him, but Chester wasn't deterred from answering.

"No." He shook his head, beginning to flip through the book, then closing it again. "I picked Numb. It's one of my favorites."

"I haven't heard it before! Now I'm excited," Mike sent him a quick, white-toothed grin as he glanced at him for a split second, then looked back at the road.

Chester blushed slightly. "It's not that good," he shrugged, then sighed. "Do you think they'll like me?"

"What do you mean?" Mike's voice was concerned. "Of course they'll like you. You're incredible. They're all really excited to meet you, to be honest, so yeah."

"You told them about me?"

It was Mike's turn to blush as he stopped at a red light, almost instantly starting to move forward as it turned green. "Nothing big. Just... that I found us a singer and that... um..." he let out an anxious giggle. "I told them you were kind of cute."

Chester snorted, looking back out the window. "Should've known."

Mike didn't say anything for a few seconds, but Chester knew he was smiling. "Should we tell them?" He suddenly asked, making Chester glance at him in mild confusion.

"Tell them what?"

Mike reached over and cautiously held out his hand, as if he wasn't sure what reaction Chester would have. The older boy slid his hand into Mike's, linking their fingers together. This was a strange sensation for Chester, because he didn't know if they were officially dating or if... he really didn't know what they were considering themselves, but he was holding the guy's hand anyway. Mike squeezed his hand. "That we're sort of boyfriends."

The word sent warmth through Chester's chest, but he tried to act nonchalant (it wasn't working much). "I don't know. Do you think we should?"

"It's your choice, honestly. I'll do whatever you want to do. I just want you to feel comfortable." Mike swerved the car to park it in front of a rather large house. He waved his hand in the house's general direction. "That's Joe's house. His parents are supposed to be out for the day so we should have the place to ourselves. The garage is basically transformed into a music studio, so it's really cool!" Chester's heart swelled at the excitement in Mike's voice, because he obviously knew how excited he was even by only talking about the studio.

They sat in the car for a few more seconds, before Mike inhaled deeply. "We don't have to tell them now. They don't have to know until you're ready," he said, squeezing Chester's pale, delicate hand occasionally.

Chester nodded in affirmation. "Okay."

The front door of the house opened with a loud bang, and there stood a short Korean boy, flanked by a tall boy with large curly hair and an average-height boy with dark, short hair. A boy with red hair appeared behind them and waved at the car enthusiastically. Mike nodded toward them: "They're all already here. We should probably introduce you and get to work!"

They unlinked hands and got out of the car, Chester trailing Mike closely as they made their way to the doorstep. Mike greeted the other four guys with warm hugs and simple handshakes. When they were done greeting each other, Mike stepped back and placed a comforting hand on Chester's back, keeping it there as he spoke. "This is our new singer! His name is Chester."

Chester smiled shyly. "Hey."

The tall, curly-haired one was the first to say hello. "Hi," he exclaimed excitedly, "I'm Brad! Mike's been talking about you all the time, so it's great to finally meet you in person." At this, Chester gave him a nod and sent a skeptical glance toward Mike, who grinned and just rubbed his back gently and shook his head in amusement, not bothering to defend himself.

The red-haired boy was next, holding out his hand to shake, and beamed when Chester shook it a bit hesitantly. "I'm Dave," he said, "but you can call me Phoenix."

The Korean, who Chester already knew as Joe, introduced himself anyway. "I'm Joe," he smiled warmly. "Great to meet you. I'm so excited to hear you sing!"

Chester blushed, but nodded. "Thank you."

The last boy was, as Chester assumed, Rob. He had short brown hair and chocolate-brown, friendly eyes. "I'm Rob," he introduced himself, securing Chester's assumptions and giving him a quick wave.

"Nice to meet you," Chester told all of them quietly, then followed them as Joe led the way throughout the house and into the garage, where, like Mike said, the area was set up to look like a professional music studio. Joe seemed very proud of the place, showing Chester all the instruments and amps and microphones scattered all over the place and giving him a run-through tour of the makeshift studio.

The others left them to walk around, going to set up their instruments and warming up for the rehearsal. Chester caught Mike staring at him a couple times, but whenever he turned to meet his gaze, Mike would look away or be spoken to by one of the other bandmates. 

"So," Joe addressed him when they had finally made it back to the remainder of the group. "Mike said you had a song for us?"

Chester felt his face start getting hot, but he willed himself to be strong and reply, trying to control his wavery voice. "It's one of my own," he admitted, this time catching the affectionate grin Mike sent his way.

They all seemed to like that answer, judging by the ecstatic looks they all exchanged within their little group. Rob clapped his hands. "That's awesome! Are you ready?"

The first person Chester had the courage to look to was Mike, and the younger boy gave him a supportive nod. Chester copied that nod, but facing Rob, who was looking at him expectantly. He felt other pairs of eyes on him, but he tried not to feel nervous, because from what he knew about the guys he met less than an hour ago, they wouldn't judge him for anything. Mike wouldn't judge him either. 

Chester nodded again, this time more confident. "Yeah. I'm ready," he stated.

"Great." Joe exclaimed. "Do you want to sing in the recording part of the studio or just... normally in front of us?"

"Ooh," Brad piped up for the first time since his introductional greeting with an exclamation of excitement: "Do the recording studio! It's way cooler!"

His suggestion was met with a chorus of approval, and even Mike was nodding along to his friend's offer, which made Chester trust them. "Um... sure, I guess." Dave held up his hand for a high-five, and Chester returned it; lightly, but nevertheless he was proud of himself for making physical contact, although very brief, with another human being, and not freaking out after.

Joe led him to an enclosed booth with a sound system and a glass window separating the recording studio from where the rest of the band was, peering in through the window. Obviously the room wasn't in any way soundproof, because this was a homemade studio and Chester would have been extremely impressed if Joe's parents figured out how to install soundproof padding, and/or if they were willing to spend a lot of money on padded walls. This meant that the guys would hear every single word he sang clearly, and for some reason this gave him the chills. Joe handed over a set of headphones, and Chester, still red-faced, put them on and looked at the mike in front of him, adjusting it so it was around his height.

Mike held up the lyrics book, which had been left in the main studio. "Do you need this?" He called, waving it in the air.

Chester shook his head no. "I memorized it," he called back, and Mike gave him a thumbs-up and put the book somewhere on a table or a shelf not visible from where Chester was standing. He took a breath, knowing what else he wanted to say. "I don't have music for the song," he said loudly, "just the lyrics."

"It's fine," Joe waved the concern away. "You ready?"

Chester swallowed and nodded, closing his eyes and shuffling closer to the microphone hanging from the ceiling of the studio. 

"I'm tired of being who you want me to be, feeling so faithless, lost under the surface, I don't know what you're expecting of me, put under the pressure of walking in your shoes... every step that I take is another mistake to you..." he paused, catching his breath. There were tears in his eyes, knowing that this was his life, these were lyrics that meant something personal to him and now he was singing his song, with all the power and passion he could muster, to some guys who he didn't know existed until a couple days ago. 

"I've become so numb, I can't feel you there, become so tired, so much more aware, I'm becoming this, all I want to do, is be more like me, and be less like you..." another pause, this time to wipe the tears rolling down his face. He was in a trance, almost, and he couldn't see or hear anything except for the microphone and his own voice.

"Can't you see that you're smothering me? Holding so tightly, afraid to lose control? 'Cause everything that you thought I would be, has fallen apart, right in front of you... every step that I take is another mistake to you... every second I waste is more than I can take..." he was crying now, his voice passionate and shaking. He couldn't bear to look over to the window. He had no idea what he would see, and he would rather not know at the moment. "I've become so numb, I can't feel you there, become so tired, so much more aware, I'm becoming this, all I want to do, is be more like me, and be less like you..."

Another shake of the voice, and Chester found that he was gripping the sides of the headphones tightly, his knuckles probably turning white. "And I know, I may end up failing too, but I know, you were just like me with someone disappointed in you... I've become so numb, I can't feel you there, become so tired, so much more aware, I'm becoming this, all I want to do, is be more like me, and be less like you... I've become so numb, I can't feel you there..." at this last line, his voice got quiet and vulnerable and Chester could hear all the emotion in the song that he wouldn't have heard if he wasn't here. "I've become so numb..."

He took a shuddering breath and just stood there, tears streaming down his face and his eyes shut tightly, as in the back of his mind he could faintly hear the applause from the other side of the studio.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I had chapters already written out and planned but I reread them and decided I didn't like them as much as I thought I did, so I had to rewrite them all... anyway, enjoy!
> 
> This one is a bit strange. I don't know why I wrote it, but there will be emotional scenes.

It was after school, and Mike had invited him over, and obviously, since Chester often had trouble saying no, he was in Mike's car, driving in silence, their hands clasped together. Chester had never seen Mike's house, even though they had known each other for around four months now, and he could say he was surprised when the car pulled into the driveway. Mike had also suggested he stay overnight, because he could tell it had been another bad day and he didn't want Chester to be alone at his own house until his dad came home.

Mike's house was bigger than Chester had expected it to be. The way Mike dressed, talked, acted, and looked all seemed very modest, but his family obviously had a lot of money to spend. This was observed as Mike pulled up into the driveway, then got out and opened the door for Chester, ceremoniously flourishing his arms around as he motioned in the general direction of the house.

"Here it is," he grinned meekly.

Chester nodded softly, following nervously as Mike flounced up to the front door, unlocking it with his keys and going inside with a bounce in his step. "It's nice," he commented, and though he wouldn't admit it out loud just yet, that was a huge understatement. The place was quiet, which was something that seemed much more eerie in such a big house than it did when it was silent in Chester's house, and he found that the larger surroundings made him feel more open; more exposed. He didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

"No one's home," Mike said, although it didn't take a genius to figure that out. "My parents work late, and my brother's at a soccer meet. He should be home in about two hours, but until then we have the house to ourselves."

Chester wasn't a stranger to being home alone, because that happened every day, with his dad working all day and all, but something about the fact that Mike was also with him made him feel like this was the first time he had ever been left alone. He managed a smile when Mike glanced over at him from where he was rummaging through the refrigerator, trying not to show how awkward he truly felt. He didn't know exactly why he felt so awkward, but maybe it had to do with the idea of being in someone's house that he'd never been in before.

Mike stepped back with a disappointed sigh, placing his hands on his hips. "We don't have anything good," he informed the older boy, waving nonchalantly toward the fridge. "My mom said she would go shopping yesterday but apparently not."

"It's okay," Chester reassured him quietly, leaning part of his weight onto the table in the kitchen. "I wasn't hungry anyway."

"Okay." 

They stood there for a while, neither of them knowing quite what to say. Finally, Mike laughed. It was a breathy, huffy laugh, and Chester couldn't decide if it was supposed to show amusement or frustration, but either way, he didn't care. "You don't have to let me stay, you know," he offered, shrugging, "I can go home if it's going to be too much of a problem for you."

Mike immediately shook his head, like he had just heard the most absurd thing ever. "Are you serious, Chaz? Don't be silly..."

"I mean..." Chester continued, "I know we're like... sort-of boyfriends or whatever, but that doesn't mean you have to sacrifice things for me-"

He was interrupted by a warm hand on his shoulder, and in his trance, hadn't realized that the other boy had somehow made five steps forward and was now standing directly in front of him. "I'm letting you stay here because I care about you, okay? You're not a problem." 

Chester scoffed, and looked away, but Mike persisted, making some kind of strangled noise to make him look back up at him. "Do you really think that about yourself? That you're a burden? That that's what people view you as? Just a mistake? A problem?"

This was a difficult fucking question, and Chester knew the answer, of course, but he wasn't sure if he was brave enough to say it out loud. His silence seemed to be enough, though, because he heard Mike's sigh, and instantly felt guilty, because he looked up and saw that look. It was the look everyone gave him occasionally when he began to act depressing: the look of both sympathy and concern, and Chester couldn't bear the thought of being the cause of why people, especially Mike, had that look on their face.

"You're not." Mike's voice was shaky, and it sounded like he was about to cry. "Dammit, Chester, look at me," he snapped, not harshly, but firmly enough to actually make Chester look up at him, meeting his eyes. To his shock, they were actually filled with tears. None of them had technically escaped his eyes yet, but the impact was the same. "You're not any of those things," he said confidently, sounding like he was struggling to stay poised and calm, "I hate when you say things like that because I know it's true, and I know you hate yourself and I know it's not a joke and I know you actually have diagnosed depression, and you get bullied and you don't do anything to stop it, because I know you also cut and self-harm and have thought about suicide and-" he paused for breath, unable to speak for a few seconds. Chester was tearing up as well, knowing how passionate Mike was being, and, frankly, he hated himself even more right now, because Mike was crying. A single tear flowed down his cheek, slowly but surely, and Chester couldn't help it: he reached out with a shaky hand and wiped the tear away. Mike sighed frustratedly. "And... and I know all of that is true, and I hate it, because I really care about you, and I don't think I've cared about someone this much... ever, and I hate the fact that you... say all this shit about yourself all the time, because I hate that you can't see what I see."

Chester shook his head, ignoring the tears now sliding down his own face. "Mike, I-"

"I hate that whatever I see in you, you see the opposite. I see a boy who's so gentle, so kind, so funny and light-hearted and caring, and is really, really adorable, and..." Chester laughed out loud, voice cracking as Mike paused again, taking a breath. "... and I know I can't stop you from thinking that way, but it's not true and I hate it."

There was nothing to say. Absolutely nothing, because Mike had said something that no one had ever told him, and Chester was speechless, because he had no response. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? The guy just ranted about how perfect Chester seemed to him, and everything he listed, the older boy still didn't realize. "How can I be all that?" He choked out, finally, after agonizing minutes of uncomfortable silence. "How can you see me in such a way, and I just see myself as a fucking waste of space?"

It was Mike's turn to reach over and wipe Chester's tear-filled cheeks, face expression soft and caring. "Do you think," he began, then took Chester's hands in his and cleared his throat. "Do you ever think that maybe it's supposed to happen that way? Maybe there are just some people who see everything as a failure, and then maybe there are other people who are there to help them see it otherwise."

"I don't know," Chester didn't mean to sound so defeated, but he really didn't know what to feel. "I really don't know."

"I don't know either," Mike assured him, letting a small smile appear on his face. "But it would sure make sense if that was the case."

Chester couldn't help but smile back.

*****

"Mike, what would you do if I died?"

Chester was lying on his back on Mike's bed, arms supporting the back of his head, legs spread out. Mike, who had been spinning around in his swivel chair, stopped and stared at him for a couple seconds, then asked in disbelief, "What?"

Chester didn't look at him, but could feel Mike's stare practically burning into his skin. "What would you do if I died?"

"Jesus Christ, Chaz," he shook his head. "I don't know. Why are you thinking about that right now?"

"Like..." Chester cleared his throat, though he really didn't need to. He was stalling, though he already knew what he wanted to say. "I just want to know. If I died, tomorrow, let's just say, would people be sad? Would people actually remember me?"

"You won't die tomorrow," Mike said firmly.

Chester rolled his eyes, still not meeting his gaze. "Just answer the question, Mike."

Silence. Mike was obviously conflicted, but Chester wasn't sure what else he was expecting after asking him such a controversial question. "I would miss you."

Chester ignored the warmth that spread through his chest at the proclamation. "But would it be just you? Would my death have an impact on anyone else? Or would I just be... forgotten?"

"Your dad would mourn you," Mike offered, unsure of whether he was saying the right thing. "And so would Dave, Joe, Rob, and Brad." He made a move to get up and walk over to the bed, but decided against it.

"But what would you do? If, maybe, I don't know... I committed suicide tomorrow? What would people do?"

Mike must've looked absolutely horrified at that question, and that's why Chester was avoiding his gaze. He didn't know why those questions were coming out of his mouth, because part of him was as confused as Mike. Neither of them said anything, before Mike said, in a quiet, breathy voice, "You aren't considering suicide, are you?"

"No..." Chester hesitated. "I'm just curious."

"That's a really gruesome subject you're being so curious about," Mike managed a worried laugh, but didn't question him. "I guess we would have a funeral."

For the first time since the initial question was asked, Chester willed himself to turn his head so he was looking in Mike's direction. "You guess?"

"We would most definitely have a funeral," Mike corrected, "And I would come and the guys would come and your family would come and everyone would be really sad."

"I don't want people to be sad when I die," Chester said, pursing his lips. "I just want people to remember me for the good things. There aren't many, but still."

"Okay," Mike looked a little more sure of himself now as he continued, "People wouldn't be sad, they would remember you for the good things, and there's a lot of those things." He sent a smirk in Chester's direction, letting a genuine smile slip past when the older boy sent him a glance. "And people would dress nicely-"

"Black." Chester interrupted. "It's cliche but everyone would match."

Mike didn't get the logic, but didn't protest. "And everyone would dress nice... in black. And I would speak, and your dad would speak, and possibly someone else, but I don't know who that would be yet..." he paused, running out of ideas.

"What would you say?"

"I would... tell everyone what an amazing person you were, and how you lived a hard life but... it just became too much for you. And I would tell people how much I cared for you and how I would never forget you, and that I think I might've loved you." Mike's voice cracked, and he was waiting for a reaction, maybe even a rejection, but none of that happened at all.

Chester probably should have reacted to that last sentence, but didn't, instead keeping the same facial expression as he rolled onto his side, facing Mike. "And what would my dad say?"

"Probably how much he loved you and how much he tried to help you." Mike shrugged, no longer smiling. His eyes, however, held some kind of hopefulness in them. "How he wishes he could have done more."

"But there would have been nothing more to do..." Chester sighed, and closed his eyes for a few minutes, taking deep breaths. He wasn't feeling any more depressed, he just needed to be hearing this. "Can there be pink tulips? They're my favorite flowers."

Mike breathed a sigh of relief, somewhat, but Chester didn't know why he seemed like he had been holding his breath. "Of course there can be pink tulips, Chaz."

The two boys smiled at each other, both smiles a little hesitant, but genuine anyway. They were in comfortable silence for a matter of short minutes, before Mike shook his head. "You're not going to die tomorrow."

Chester nodded, rolling back around onto his back. "I know. I won't."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a bit of trouble writing this one because writer's block sucks!!!

Mike's house was even quieter at night. Chester hadn't thought it possible, but now, as he lay on the right side of Mike's bed, occasionally gently pushing the younger boy's limbs over to the left side when he shifted in his sleep. He had just checked the clock that was hanging over the desk, and apparently, if that clock was right, it was just after two in the morning, and Chester coincidentally had to pee. He had to pee really bad, and he was certain that if he didn't get up and use the bathroom within the next few minutes, Mike would wake up in a puddle of an unpleasant bodily fluid, and neither of them would want that.

He sighed, sitting up slowly and shaking out his arms before trudging toward the door of the room, afraid of making noise or bumping into something. When he successfully made it into the hallway, he had no trouble locating the bathroom, and quickly locked himself in there and did what he needed to do, before flushing, washing his hands, and walking back to the bedroom. When he walked in, he was surprised to see a silhouette sitting up in the bed. Mike turned his head to look at him, and visibly relaxed. "There you are," he shook his head softly.

Chester took a tentative step forward, unsure if he had been the reason Mike had woken up. "Did I wake you?" He asked, voice filled with guilt and shame.

"Not necessarily..." Mike trailed off, patting the space in the bed next to him and waiting until Chester made his way there and sat down before speaking again. "I heard something and woke up and you weren't next to me, and honestly I freaked out for a second." He laughed, leaning over to give Chester a quick hug, his movements still a bit stiff from sleeping.

Chester hugged back quietly, resting his head on Mike's shoulder. "Sorry."

"Not your fault," Mike immediately retorted, shaking his head. "Stop apologizing."

Chester nodded, making a mental note to stop, but inside he knew that it wouldn't be long until he was apologizing again for every little thing. He pushed Mike away gently, breaking the hug and laying back down with a long, drawn-out sigh. It's two in the morning," he commented matter-of-factly, as if that was an important reason as to why he hadn't been sleeping in the first place. "Why are we awake?"

"I'm awake because you're awake," Mike told him casually, "Did you sleep at all?"

Chester wasn't sure. Had he slept at all? "I don't know." He bit his lip, not enough pressure to hurt himself, but enough to distract himself for a moment. His teeth found the lip ring, and he realized that he still had it on. 

Mike sighed, and leaned back onto his elbows. "Well, do you want to go to sleep?"

The other boy scratched the top of his head, ignoring the obvious messy state of his bleached hair. "Not really."

"Okay."

In all honesty, Chester was a little tired, but he didn't think he would be able to fall asleep, especially while in the same bed as his sort-of boyfriend, but he did make himself comfortable, scooting over so his head was resting in Mike's lap, curling his legs up so his knees were against his chest. He heard Mike laugh slightly, and a hand began stroking his hair as the boy arranged it absently into little spikes. He reached over, shifting Chester's position a bit, and proceeded to cover him with the covers, and then continued to mess up his hair.

Chester was just beginning to relax, when Mike began to sing. The hell? His voice started out hoarse and incoherent, but a few seconds later Chester was hit with some kind of pang of realization, and he hadn't noticed that he had tensed up until he felt Mike rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.

"Let me apologize to begin with, let me apologize for what I'm about to say, 'cause trying to be someone else is harder than it seems, and sometimes I get caught up in between..."

"You memorized my song?" The statement came out as more of a question, and the silence from Mike made him think he hadn't heard it, but he was proved wrong when Mike answered, a bit hesitantly.

"I guess I did." He chuckled good-naturedly, his voice a hushed whisper.

"Your voice is really nice," Chester murmured contentedly, rolling onto his back so he could tilt his head and look straight up at Mike's face. "You should be the lead singer of your band, not me."

"Oh, hell no," he snorted. "I can't sing to save my life. I mean, I can rap, but that's it."

"Maybe we could do something like... I don't know... a combination of both rap and rock or whatever." When Mike didn't say anything, Chester assumed the worst and immediately followed the suggestion up with: "It's just a thought. Stupid, right?"

Mike shook his head, his hand still tangled in Chester's hair. "It's not stupid," he said, although Chester was beginning to doubt his authority. After all, he had found that Mike always said the opposite when it came to Chester's negativity toward himself, and instantly the conversations from the day before filled his mind, particularly a specific sentence that he couldn't stop thinking about.

"What are we?"

"Hmm?" Mike clearly didn't realize the importance of the question, because he didn't look fazed at all. "We're sort-of boyfriends. We discussed this, remember?"

"Yeah, but... that's not really something we can say to people when they ask us who we are to each other. Sort-of boyfriends?" Chester couldn't place his own emotions at that moment, but he found himself not really caring anymore.

Mike raised an eyebrow, shifting on the bed. Chester sat up, ignoring the fact that the covers had fallen off of him. "What do you mean? I thought you were comfortable calling us that?"

"I am..." he paused, rubbing his eyes vigorously before taking a breath. "But are you?"

Mike sputtered, caught by surprise at the question, as he hurriedly said, "Of course I am, Chaz, I told you: I'm happy with whatever you're happy-"

"You said you think you love me." Chester wasn't sure what compelled him to suddenly blurt that out, but there wasn't going back once he had said it. For a moment he regretted even opening his mouth because of the expression on Mike's face, but before long he shook off his insecurities... just that once.

Mike looked overwhelmed, with emotions flashing through his eyes and face so fast Chester wasn't able to conclude what he was thinking. "You remember that?"

Chester nodded, eyes wide, lips pushed together. "Otherwise I wouldn't have asked you," he pointed out softly.

"I mean..." Mike hesitated, stopping everything for a couple of short seconds, that to Chester, really felt like an eternity. "Yeah, I think I love you." Then, with a sudden burst of confidence, he repeated it, "I love you, okay? I've loved you for such a long time-" he broke off, vocal cords failing him with the sheer emotion of it all.

"How long?" Chester hissed, voice hushed, fresh tears in his eyes. His hands were shaking a little, but he ignored them.

Mike bent his head, looking down. "Since we met, that first day." He confessed. "Since the time I gave you a ride home. Since the first time I heard you sing. Since the first time you let me call you that ridiculous nickname. Since... well... ever since all of that." He looked up, and his face was filled with so much pain that Chester didn't know what to feel. Should he feel guilty? Flattered? Was this an appropriate time to burst into tears?

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?" Mike was staring at him, disbelieving. "Haven't you ever loved someone before? Haven't you ever felt so... so starstruck by someone, so much that it physically hurts to not be able to tell them what you feel? You can't control that type of thing, Chaz. You can't."

If someone had asked him to retell the events that occurred next, Chester wouldn't know what to say, because honestly he was in such a trance that he had no idea what was happening until it happened. They were kissing, and Mike had morning breath even though it wasn't a reasonable time to have morning breath, but Chester couldn't care less, because he found himself pressing closer, hands on either side of Mike's face, Mike propping himself up with his hands against the bed, and Chester kept his eyes open to watch Mike's face, before he remembered how to kiss and his eyes shut. He felt them slowly falling, and before he knew it Mike's back was pressed up against the bed, and he was laying on top of him, and any other time this would be considered too personal for Chester's liking, but he was too preoccupied to care, gasping into Mike's mouth as he rolled them over, gently but suddenly, and now Chester was on the bottom, and Mike was hovering over him, which must've been a very uncomfortable position. Mike, however, didn't make any moves to stop what they were doing, so Chester didn't question it.

The only time he actually properly reacted was when he had to break the kiss to take a deep, needed breath, and met Mike's dark, rich eyes, both of them panting. For a moment everything went blurry, and Chester was hyperventilating, because oh my God, there was a human being on top of him and he felt trapped and confined and- he gasped, feeling a hand on his cheek. "Chester? You okay? Jesus Christ, what happened?" 

He was being pulled up into a sitting position, and Chester could tell that Mike had no idea what to do in a situation like this. "Oh God, did I do something? I'm so sorry," he was rambling, but Chester, who was now sitting with his legs dangling off the side of the bed and his face in his hands, waved a hand in the direction of where he assumed Mike was.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he forced himself to say it, though his voice was trying to rebel against speaking. "Don't worry, I'm fine."

"Chaz...?" Mike looked so worried Chester was sure he would look the same if he had just found out his entire family had been kidnapped. That was maybe an exaggeration. "Baby, what happened?"

Baby. 

Honestly, Chester somewhat liked the word, but, like a lot of things, wouldn't actually admit it out loud. So, like a lot of things, he ignored the pet name and instead focused on settling his breathing. "I overreacted," he said quietly, "I'm fine."

"If I knew you were going to react like that, I wouldn't have done that," Mike defended himself, although Chester wasn't blaming him at all. He was blaming himself, and if Mike knew, he would have a fit, but he couldn't help it. It was his own goddamn fault, and Mike had to feel guilty because of his stupid reaction. 

"I know." Chester's voice was hoarse, and occasionally he still took shuddering, shaking breaths, unable to fully calm down for a long time. "Mike, I know. I know."

The half-Asian boy nodded, pursing his lips in doubt, as if he wasn't certain if Chester was telling the truth. After a while, he placed a hand on Chester's back tentatively, and snorted. "Would this be an appropriate time to ask you to be my actual boyfriend? Officially?"

Chester couldn't help but laugh at that, ignoring how his voice wavered throughout the soft laugh. "No," he began, "But I'm going to say yes anyway."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like this one. I rushed it because I wanted to get something up before school, so that's why it's so bad. Also, I probably won't be posting so much around the holidays, but I might get a chapter or two up the following week during the holiday break. Bear with me if the updates get weird!

It wasn't that he wasn't really into his and Mike's newfound relationship, because he was, but he had to admit that he had lost track of the amount of time they had considered themselves anything other than friends. Chester cared more about the person themselves, and to be honest he was falling for Mike more every time he saw him, and before long, he could call it more than just a crush. He was absolutely smitten, and it was getting increasingly harder to hide it from everyone else.

One good thing, according to his dad, was that he seemed happier and more carefree, and while he was still struggling with academics, even he saw himself smiling more and having less chances of relapsing. He didn't know for sure if that was because he was hanging out with Mike so much, if not at school then outside of school, or if it was because he was now in a band, with Mike, and singing his own songs to such supportive people, and getting so much praise back, even if he thought he didn't deserve it. No matter the reasons for his happiness, Chester was more happy, and he couldn't say the opposite, because even he knew it was true.

But, knowing Chester's life, the good things ended way too fast, and he woke up one day, unable to get out of his bed. He wasn't sick or anything (well, he didn't think he was), he was just extremely tired for some reason. He was so tired and weak he couldn't move, and after maybe the ninth or tenth or eleventh try of getting out of bed onto his feet, he knew for sure that he wasn't going to school if his life depended on it. This had happened before, during his relapses and noticeably during the worst part of his fight against depression and anxiety and all that, and his father had come to understand the fact that sometimes, Chester just couldn't find the will to get up.

He could recall one day when he just slept for the entirety of the day, ignoring anything and everything, including food, clothes, water, and other necessities. He nearly wet the bed that day, but managed to trudge - very slowly - into the bathroom and save his beloved bed from being peed on. Chester found that sleeping did usually help when he woke up feeling like this. A few years ago, when his depression was starting to really rear its ugly, unwanted head, his father had taken him to the doctor after maybe the fifth day he had just... slept and stayed home and did nothing, afraid he might have something more serious. Basically, the reason for these days was because Chester probably overstressed himself in the days before, and overwhelmed his body so much, he just required the extra hours of rest and sleep. That was the doctor's reason, at least, but Chester couldn't understand why he was so exhausted and unmotivated today of all days, because he had been feeling so much better recently.

He ignored everything around him for a good few hours, even ignoring when his phone rang about four times, telling himself he would call back later. He didn't really know when later was.

It was around noon when he finally made himself get out of bed, and checked his phone, finding a total of seven messages from none other than Mike. He considered not checking them yet, because he really didn't feel like responding and then having a full-fledged conversation through text, but he shook his head and bit his lip as he lay on the bed, and tapped on the messaging app. He wasn't surprised Mike had tried texting him and calling him, because usually they would at least see each other before classes began. 

Mikey: Chazzy are u late?

Mikey: hello??

Mikey: i'm assuming your bus is late or something

Mikey: Chaz? Are u there?

Mikey: are you okay? Should i be worried?

Mikey: did u oversleep?

Mikey: hellooo???

After those, it seemed like he had attempted calling him three times, but Chester wasn't about to call him back. He didn't feel like speaking today, honestly. He contemplated whether he should actually reply, because Mike was most likely in a class right now and he didn't want to bother him with his useless and pathetic stories and problems and explanations. Leaving him on read wasn't any better, but Chester turned off the phone, his heart feeling a bit warmer after realizing that Mike cared enough about him to text and call him in order to see if he was okay.

He ignored the phone from then on, just in case there were new notifications from certain people, and instead went to sleep with a mild migraine, not bothering to even get up for his medications. That was the thing. Ever since his father agreed to drop the whole 'therapist' thing, he had also seemingly forgotten about Chester's antidepressants. Whether it was from school or distractions or pure ignorance, Chester was pretty sure that he hadn't taken any antidepressants for months, and honestly he wasn't certain if something changed, either for the better... or the worse. He just didn't know, but: if his father didn't notice anything changing in his personality or things like that, he told himself that he was fine, and that his meds were just things to try and distract him from the reality of depression. If he continued taking them, who knows how he would have reacted, sooner or later.

He lay in his bed and thought about Mike's reaction to the first time Chester told him about his diagnosed depression. To be honest, Chester couldn't recall the younger boy's face entirely, but he did know that he wasn't looking extremely surprised, for some reason. Maybe he thought that he was acting just the way a depressed person would be acting? Maybe he just had his guess and he confirmed it for him? Chester was sure of one thing, though: Mike never mentioned antidepressants or medications or anything like that. Just therapy. 

Maybe it was possible that Mike was uneducated on the topic of such medications? Maybe he already assumed Chester wasn't taking them based on the fact that he didn't go to therapy anymore?

It didn't really matter at the moment, because Chester wasn't about to explain it to him. He knew that if Mike suddenly found out that he was supposed to be taking meds but wasn't, he wouldn't let him live it down, and Chester didn't want that kind of tension between them just as he was realizing how much he actually liked Mike. He was considering telling his father, and hoped Mike wanted to tell his parents too, because he wasn't certain how much longer they would have to keep it a secret. And, Mike's parents would probably be supportive, based on how Mike was raised, so Chester reasoned it would be best to just get it out of the way and tell them.

He thought this as he lay on his bed, eyes half-closed, when the doorbell rang from downstairs, and when Chester looked over at the clock on his bedside table, he realized that the school day was over. He stifled a groan as he forced himself up, padding downstairs at an annoyingly slow pace, and opened the door just before the person on the other side rang the bell again. Chester was expecting Mike to be there, because without a reaction he opened the door wider and motioned for him to come inside.

"Hey," Mike said cautiously as he approached Chester, putting his backpack on the armchair next to him. "Are you okay? Why weren't you at school today?"

Chester paused, swallowing, and after seconds of thought, said the most believable thing that came to mind: "I overslept and didn't feel well, so I didn't go."

"Oh." Mike looked skeptical, like he always did when Chester made such common excuses. It made him feel like he wasn't fully trusted by the other boy, but he tried to think that Mike just cared about him and could read him like a book, cue the looks and unsure glances. "Are you alright now?"

"I'm fine." Chester couldn't help it when the phrase came out of his mouth; he said it so much he was used to it being an automatic response to anything and everything.

Mike must've sensed that he was somewhat lying but decided not to question him about it, instead looking around the room, eyes wandering along to the doorway to the kitchen when he was done observing the living room. "It's a nice house," Mike commented, and Chester knew that while Mike's was way nicer, the younger boy genuinely meant what he said. 

Chester sat down on the couch heavily, waiting for Mike to drop down next to him. They were so close, their shoulders touched, but neither of them made a move to do anything more than that. "I was thinking," Chester suddenly began, quite unexpectedly, rather, causing Mike to look up at him, a bit startled. "We should tell people about us."

"You mean... that we're dating?" 

"Yeah." Chester gave him a sideways glance, expecting Mike to be all in, but his boyfriend had something along the lines of fear and sadness written all over his face.

"I don't... I don't think that's a good idea, Chaz." He shifted uncomfortably.

"What?" Chester was not expecting that to happen, and he couldn't hold back on the surprised expression. "Why not? I'm sure my dad will be supportive. I mean, yeah, it's a terrifying concept and I really don't want to tell anyone either, but we have to at some point."

Mike shook his head, and Chester heard him swallow thickly as he stared ahead, avoiding eye contact. "The problem isn't your dad... it's my parents."

"Your parents will be fine with it, I promise," said Chester. 

He always imagined Mike's family to be exactly like Mike himself: kind, accepting, and amazing to be around. After experiencing what Mike's house was like, as well, he also thought of them as the perfect family, and he viewed his parents as the perfect parents, although he never met them. Since they created Mike, who was perfect, it was probably a good call to call them perfect, too.

"My mom will be okay with it," Mike continued, sounding like he would rather be talking about anything but this. "She knows I'm bisexual already, and she's fine with it. The problem is my dad. Um... he's cool and all, but when I told him I was bi, he sort of... got all mad at me and stuff. Told me I was a disappointment to the family. It took him a while to get used to my sexuality, basically, and although he doesn't verbally insult me anymore, he still doesn't 100% accept me, and I don't want him to hate you as much as he hated me."

"... Oh." Chester looked down at his hands, nervously picking at his nails, which were so bitten down, there was almost nothing left of them. "We don't have to tell him, in that case. Sorry for assuming."

Mike shook his head again, chewing on his lip. "It's not your fault. You didn't know."

Chester was already beating himself up over his expectations for Mike's parents, and he hated that he forced Mike to talk about these issues, though he was sure it was for the better. "Okay."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry for the long wait! The holidays took up a lot of my time and I didn't have any inspiration at all when I started this chapter. I pushed through the writer's block, and while I don't necessarily like this chapter, it's better than nothing, I guess! 
> 
> Also, I'm running out of original ideas for this story so if you could leave some ideas you'd like to see later on in a comment, that would be greatly appreciated! 
> 
> Hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season (if you don't celebrate anything, hopefully you enjoyed the season :P), and happy 2018! Once again, sorry I didn't update in so long, but I do think I might be getting more inspiration now that the holidays are over (I say this, but it'll probably take me a while to write the next part), and I hope you guys like this chapter, although I don't.
> 
> Stay strong, everyone!

Chester hadn't seen his mom for years. He remembered how she looked, of course, but the memories of her were so distant and he didn't really like recalling them. He knew his father had been... sort of keeping in touch with other family members to see how she was doing, because although they didn't live together and weren't together anymore, Chester was pretty sure his dad still missed her a little bit.

Anyway, he did also know that his parents didn't talk to each other directly at all, which was why he was currently uncomprehending as to why his father was on the phone with his mother in the first place. He had just exited his bedroom after noticing that it was just after two in the morning and after hearing his dad talking downstairs, in the calmest voice he had heard him use in a long while. When Chester heard that calm voice, he knew his father wasn't exactly happy, so to say the least he was intrigued, and was now standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching his father pace around, his phone held up to his ear. There was a voice on the other line, and occasionally his father would say something.

Once the call was over, Chester's father turned around, raising an eyebrow when he saw the boy in the doorway, but didn't offer a question as to why he was there, instead sighing and putting the phone down onto the table. Chester, who had been chewing on his lip, eyebrows furrowed in a mix of concern and confusion, stepped a bit further into the kitchen. "Who was that?" He asked, hoping it was a good question.

"It was..." his father paused mid-sentence, tapping his fingers against the table, eyes flicking around the room in an effort to seem natural. It wasn't working, to be completely honest. "... your mother."

Chester felt his jaw lock at the word, and he didn't know how to react, because what the fuck was he supposed to say to that? "Why?" His voice came out more hostile than he had intended, but he really wasn't about to apologize for that, because after all, he hadn't seen his mom since she left them. "What were you talking about?"

"You're not going to like this."

The boy sighed at that, running a hand through his bleached hair. If this wasn't the bad part already, he didn't know what to expect next. "What were you talking about with her?"

"She's coming to visit," said his dad, trying, and failing, to seem casual. "In a week. She and I have been making plans."

"What?" Chester blinked, unsure if he had heard that correctly; also he forgot how to breathe for a couple seconds in his shocked state, and he had to remind himself to do so when he realized he was holding his breath. "Why? What happened?"

"She and I just thought it would be nice if you two caught up. And... she has a husband and two kids around your age, so..."

Chester shook his head at that. He knew that both of his mother's kids were teenagers, and that both of them were her husband's kids from another marriage, so he didn't really know how he felt about meeting them and having them in his house. "Oh," he said softly, then shook his head again. "Why now? After all this time?"

"You're graduating this year and I guess your mom just wanted to see how you were doing." His father shrugged. "She was the one who suggested the trip, and since winter break is right around the corner I thought that it wouldn't be a problem."

*****

Chester realized that he and Mike had only been together for around five months or so, and known each other as friends for nearly seven, but Mike could already read him like a book. So, it wasn't shocking when Mike sent him a look the moment he climbed into the passenger seat of the younger boy's car. "What's wrong, Chaz?" He asked after they were on the road, headed toward the school. 

There was no use in lying, so Chester just cleared his throat and decided to tell the truth. "My mom's coming to visit for the break."

Mike's eyes flicked from the road to Chester, then back to the road. "Your mom? I thought you didn't even talk to her."

"I didn't." Chester scoffed, looking out the passenger side window at the passing buildings, not bothering to look at Mike at all. "My dad did. Apparently she suggested that she and her new family make the trip because, according to my dad, she wanted to catch up with me."

"The fuck?" Mike let out an abrupt laugh, cutting himself off when he realized that this probably wasn't an appropriate time to laugh. "After more than ten years of your life, she just suddenly wants to see you?"

"That's what I said." Chester added, but didn't say anything else, because he was already tired and the day hadn't even properly begun, and also because he could see the school building now.

The day went by in a blur. It was one of those days: he was in physically in the classroom, doing work, and following the schedule, avoiding bullies and occasionally smiling shyly at people he recognized, most likely the boys from Mike's band, but his mind was elsewhere. If someone had asked him what they had done in, history, for example, he wouldn't have been able to tell them, because he had no clue. 

He was used to feeling this way. Not knowing anything. It wasn't a lot different from when his mom left, roughly ten years ago. He was only a child, and he didn't know a life without a mother figure until then, and honestly it was still considered one of the hardest times in his life so far. He remembered how upset his father became after she moved out, and how he didn't like talking about her for a long time after the news came out that she had gotten a new boyfriend. Of course, she got engaged, and then married, and Chester stopped referring to her as "Mom", instead calling her his mother. 

He recalled thinking that it was his fault that she left, and one time he actually brought that up when having a casual conversation with his dad, not more than two years after she left them, because they were still not over her, apparently, and that was the beginning of Chester's battle with depression and such. His dad had made it clear that it was in no way, shape or form Chester's fault, and that it was his fault that their relationship hadn't worked out, but the boy didn't know how much of that to believe.

His father had a thing of lying to make him feel better about stuff. Chester hated it.

It took him a while to convince himself that he wasn't involved, and although he might've been after all, eventually he had no intentions of getting in contact with his mother anyway, and decided not to bother with it anymore. He didn't think he would ever see her or talk to her again, because, well, she lived on the other side of the country.

But now she was a week away from appearing in his house again... in his life, along with her kids and husband, probably. He didn't know the kids' names or the husband's name. He didn't even know how they looked, for fuck's sake, because he had never had a reason to inquire as to how his mom's new family looked like.

He just hoped she wouldn't make everything awkward when she did come, because that's the last thing he needed: criticism from the woman he didn't consider to be a part of his life anymore. He remembered how she liked to tell him if she thought he was too skinny or if he was doing something she didn't like, and honestly he wasn't at the best stage of his teenage career right now, so he was expecting comments that had to do with his hair, his body, maybe (hopefully not) the scars on his wrists, and even the lip ring.

His mother didn't approve of piercings, according to his dad.

She would maybe ask about his friends, and then he would have to tell her about Mike and the band, and then she would ask to hear him sing and he would get embarrassed, because that's something he wouldn't even do in front of his dad, much less his mother. There were so many things that could go wrong, honestly. He just hoped his father had thought this through.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Writer's block is a bitch, honestly, and I wish I could have gotten this chapter done quicker, but I just couldn't get myself to write for the longest time and I didn't have any inspiration either. So, sorry for the wait, but here you go: a brand new chapter that probably sucks ass. Enjoy!
> 
> (If anyone has ideas on how to add on to this story or any ideas for new stories please comment and let me know! Any feedback is appreciated!)

He wouldn't admit it, but the reunion didn't go as horribly as he had expected, and while it definitely didn't rank in the top 10 moments of his life, it was by no means disastrous. Of course there were tears, especially from his mother, and Chester had been predicting that she would hug him, so he didn't push her away when her shaky arms wrapped around him. 

He could see the disappointment in his dad's eyes when he refused to hug her back, but he didn't react to it or do anything, simply just standing there as his mother finally let go of him. Chester could not help but notice that his parents didn't hug each other, their greeting being a blank look and an awkward handshake, the same thing being repeated with the man who Chester assumed was his mother's new husband. Apparently his name was Michael, but Chester couldn't really care any less.

What he didn't realize until he went back upstairs to his room was that he was close to tears himself, and to be perfectly honest he had no fucking clue what to do, because he definitely wasn't going back downstairs to have some cheesy and awkward "family reunion" conversation with someone he wished wasn't related to him anyway. So, he did the first thing he could think of: he picked up his phone and he called Mike.

He knew it was probably a bad idea when Mike didn't pick up the first time, and the phone went to voicemail, but he decided it wouldn't hurt to try calling one more time. To his luck (and immense relief) Mike picked up on the second ring. "Chester?"

He swallowed, smiling to himself. It had only been a few days since they had talked, even on the phone, because Mike had been sick, so it was a huge plus to be hearing Mike's voice. "Hey, Mike, are you free right now?"

There was a couple seconds of silence, interrupted only by Mike's breathing on the other line. "Right now? We can meet up sometime in the afternoon if you want."

"Right now would be great," Chester hinted, hearing footsteps ascending the stairs. They didn't sound like his dad's footsteps, so he assumed the worst, thinking it probably was his mother. After all, she did seem like she genuinely wanted to talk to him, and that's the last thing he wanted to do.

Mike chuckled. "I'll be there in maybe ten minutes. Be ready, okay?"

Chester sighed in relief, thanking the heavens for his luck. "Thank you."

Ten minutes was nothing, so he just ran around, getting ready and avoiding his family, until the doorbell rang. Chester was going to be the one to open it, but his dad got there first, opening it and probably looking extremely confused. Chester descended the stairs, skipping the last two steps, and pushed past his father, sending a pointed glance toward Mike and heading toward Mike's familiar car, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. He could hear his boyfriend saying something to his dad, and a few seconds later he was sitting in the driver's seat, the engine turned on. "Where to?" He asked, guessing that Chester didn't necessarily want to talk at that moment.

"Anywhere but here."

They drove around in a while, enveloped in silence, and before long, they found themselves at the park where their first kiss happened. It wasn't very cold, so they walked around, holding hands and not talking, the only communication happening being the occasional looks they gave each other, and the smiles both of them were trying to hold back. "Why did you want me to come pick you up, Chaz?"

"I don't know." Chester shrugged, exhaling deeply. He felt the warmth of his and Mike's palms pressed together, their fingers entwined. Mike squeezed his hand comfortingly. "I couldn't stay there, not with her."

Obviously Mike knew who he was talking about, and he pressed his lips into a line, looking away for a second or two, before speaking up again. "Is she really that bad?"

"I hate her," Chester grimaced as he thought of his mother. He wished she hadn't come to stay with them. "I hate everything about her."

"What did she do?"

Chester ran a hand through his bleached spikes of hair, and swung his and Mike's entwined hands a little as they walked. They turned absently, now walking slowly toward the playground, so close that he was surprised they weren't melting together. "That's the thing," he sighed, shaking his head. "Nothing. She did absolutely nothing, and I despise her for that."

Mike didn't respond for a long time, but then again, Chester wasn't expecting him to have something helpful to say, so he embraced the silence, grateful to have Mike with him. "Want to go sit on the swings?"

Clearly, Chester did, because he nodded furiously, and stifled a smile, dragging Mike over to where the swing set was. He loved the swings. He remembered when he was a little kid and his dad took him to the playground and pushed him on the swings, and he had laughed and laughed and laughed, unable to stop laughing because back then the swings had felt like the greatest thing in the world, and it made him feel like he was flying. He wished he could fly now, so he could just... fly away. Fly away from everything.

Sometimes, he imagined where he would go if he could fly. Probably somewhere where no one knew him and somewhere where everyone was nice and accepting and where it was sunny and bright and beautiful. He would take Mike with him, of course, because no matter how lovely the place was, he knew he would never truly be happy without Mike being there.

"Are you okay?"

Chester blinked, realizing he had zoned out, and seeing Mike looking at him, mildly concerned. "Yeah," he said, forcing himself to smile. "I'm okay."

Mike nodded, accepting the answer. They were both sitting on swings, swinging themselves as best as they could, neither of them putting much work into the swinging. "I talked to my parents about my sexuality yesterday. I was talking about the band and I mentioned you. I probably should have described you differently, because they started asking questions, and I really didn't want to lie to them."

"So you told them about us?" Chester didn't mean for it to come out sounding as if he was offended, because he wasn't. He would have preferred for them to come out this way, rather than them both having to make it such a big deal. He didn't want to make it such a huge occasion anyway. He just wanted to come home with Mike and tell their parents that "this is my boyfriend" and for them to be treated normally, but he knew that was too much to ask for.

"Not all of it," Mike confessed, and Chester could see that he was slightly blushing. "I told them we were good friends and that I might have feelings for you, but that's only because they asked that specifically. They seemed okay with it, but I didn't want to tell them we were actually together without you knowing."

"That's sweet." Chester cleared his throat, letting himself swing even higher. "If they ask, you can tell them, I guess. Unless you know they won't be supportive. Then don't tell them." It seemed so simple to him, because he was sure his dad would support the relationship, and he wasn't certain how much Mike's parents would be against it.

Mike nodded but didn't say anything for a long while. "You know," he finally managed to say, "I'm really lucky to have met you. It's only been what... a few months, but I can't imagine what my life was without you."

Chester laughed lightly. "You saved my life, Mike."

He thought it had been a quite serious proclamation on his part, but Mike chuckled, looking at a group of younger kids running around and screaming a distance away. 

"Yeah," he said, but there was a bit of sarcasm. His amusement died away when Chester spoke again.

"No, I'm serious. You really saved my fucking life, you idiot." 

And Mike reached over, taking Chester's hand gently before uttering a soft "oh" and they sat there, swinging themselves minimally, hands joined together, silent. There was nothing to say, anyway.

*****

Mike dropped him off right in front of the Bennington household a good few hours later. The sun was just beginning to set, but it wasn't too dark, and Chester hoped he wouldn't cause too much commotion when entering the house, not wanting to be the center of attention. He was ready to say goodbye in the car and to walk himself to the house, but Mike, like the gentleman he was, protested that he would walk Chester to the door. They stood, on the doorstep, just looking at each other for a few seconds, and Chester almost got lost in Mike's rich, dark eyes, until he remembered that he was standing right in front of his home and he needed to get inside at one point. "Thanks for taking me away today," he murmured softly, shifting his feet and biting his lip to stifle a genuine smile.

Mike shrugged, grinning. He opened his mouth to say something, then must've thought better of it, because he closed his mouth again. "I think I love you," he stated, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes, reopening them and blinking rapidly. Chester thought he had tears in his eyes, but it was too dark to tell by then. 

"I think I love you too."

Mike's smile, stretching from ear to ear, made Chester feel warmth in his chest, and he was expecting what happened next: Mike leaned in and kissed him on the lips, a hand cupping Chester's cheek and the other on the older boy's hip. Chester kissed back, and realized that every time they kissed, he was taken back to the park, where they stood, wrapped up in each other, laughing about their lips touching. Months later, Chester would've thought that kissing wouldn't cause him to have butterflies in his stomach anymore, but the sensation was just the same as the first time.

They broke apart, sharing a beaming smile, and then Mike waved, speedwalking down the driveway to his car, and blowing the other boy a kiss. Chester waved back and watched the car drive away, and only when it turned the corner did he unlock the front door and slip in, hoping to be unnoticed. It was just his luck that his mother happened to be standing a few feet away from the door, looking out the window, a strange look on her face.

"Who was that boy?" She asked casually, as if she hadn't just observed her son kissing his "secret" boyfriend right on the doorstep.

Chester swallowed thickly, frozen in place. He was in shock. What the hell was he supposed to say? "It's not what you think-"

"Don't worry," she interrupted him, the corners of her mouth quirking up in a tiny smile. "I won't tell your father."

"... Oh." He looked downwards at his shoes, blushing madly. He was sure his entire face looked like a tomato, and if this wasn't one of the most embarrassing things that had ever happened to him, he didn't know what was. "Thanks."

"Yeah." She looked away, obviously finding the exchange as awkward as Chester did. 

He sent her another half-hearted smile and escaped the area, bounding up the stairs and to his bedroom, shutting the door as quickly as possible and collapsing on the bed, overwhelmed. Out of all the ways he imagined coming out to his family, having his (sort-of) mother seeing him kiss Mike was not one of them. He wasn't sure if he would ever get over this one.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a while, but here it is: the next chapter! Hope you enjoy (sorry about the looooong delay)!

Chester was used to being home alone a lot, obviously, and because he was home alone so often, that allowed him to comfortably sing and songwrite, because, well, if anyone caught him singing he would probably melt into the ground in embarrassment. But now, knowing that he wasn't alone in the house made him extremely uncomfortable and annoyed, as that meant he couldn't sing for the time being. Occasionally, because he didn't have to share his bedroom with anyone, he would bring out his lyrics book and just write, but no matter how much he wanted to just belt out one of the songs, he knew there were people downstairs and that they would probably hear him.

That didn't stop him, however, from humming the songs and occasionally saying the lyrics under his breath. Sometimes when he was sure that everyone was asleep he would sing a little louder, not loud enough that people would actually hear him from the other rooms, but loud enough that he could hear the emotion in the lyrics. That's what he was doing now, sitting cross-legged on his bed, his lyrics book in front of him on the mattress, and his desk light on, dimly lighting up the otherwise dark room. Occasionally he looked over at his phone, which was on his bedside table, and checked the time. The last time he had checked, it had been somewhere just after three in the morning.

He knew he should have been sleeping, but he wasn't tired and it was Saturday tomorrow, so he didn't need to get up at the crack of dawn to get to school. Plus, he couldn't really explain it, but there was this burning urge inside him that yearned to sing, no matter how unreasonable the hour was or how many people were in the house. He wished he was at Joe's house in his "studio", because now that he had gotten more comfortable singing in front of the guys, it was weird to hear his songs without the instruments to accompany them. He did have a guitar, but, first of all it was somewhere around three in the morning, and second of all, he was absolutely shitty at playing it, so that was a no. 

He had just finished "Numb" and was about to move on to a song he and Mike had collaborated on, called "In the End." Mike rapped and Chester sang his heart out and honestly it was exactly the type of music he would associate with their band, and he loved it. He hadn't gotten the chance to fully perfect his own vocals, so he was planning to practice now, before the door to his bedroom creaked a little, and there was a muffled curse, making him jump out of his skin. He turned around, fearing the worst, but saw nothing more than a human standing in the doorway of his room, looking lost and incredibly guilty. He instantly recognized her as his stepfather's daughter, Ashley.

"Hi," she said, raising a hand. She looked like she wanted to die, but she wasn't the only one. 

Chester's cheeks were already starting to burn with embarrassment, because clearly she had heard him singing, and at this hour he really did not need this. He considered getting up and slamming the door in her face before he had a nervous breakdown in front of her, but he didn't do that, instead letting the side of his mouth quirk into a small, unsure smile. "Hi. Can I help you?"

Ashley flushed and she desperately waved her hands around in the general area of where the door was, and finally she shook her head, letting a small giggle escape her. "I'm sorry," she began, still shaking her head. "I had to go take a shit and when I was going back to the guest room I heard you singing and it was really good but I couldn't hear you very well so I decided it would be a perfectly good idea to press my ear to the door to hear better. Apparently," she waved her arms a few more times wildly, "My dumb ass didn't notice it wasn't fully closed."

"Oh." Chester wanted to laugh, because if he was being honest it was funny, but he didn't want to seem disrespectful, so he just grinned wider, closing his lyrics book out of habit of not letting anyone see inside (except for Mike, of course). "Smart move."

She actually laughed, taking a few steps into the room. "Yeah. I'm so embarrassed." Just by looking at her, Chester could tell. She was all red in the face, as was he, and she looked like she had just walked in one people fucking. She leaned against his desk awkwardly, and he let her, not wanting to come off as rude. "Do you mind if I chill in here for a while? I have learned that my brother is an extremely loud snorer."

Chester leaned over to deposit the notebook onto his bedside table, nodding, and watched as she sat down cautiously on his desk chair. "So," he said, just now being reminded of the fact that he was not an expert in the science of having intellectual conversations. He hoped he wouldn't embarrass himself anymore than he already had.

"So," she repeated, the redness slowly ebbing away from her cheeks. "My name's Ashley."

"I know," Chester commented, then cringed at how blunt that sounded, then quickly added, "Well, obviously I met you before, and I know your name-" he stopped himself, biting his tongue when he saw the slight amusement in the girl's eyes, then took a deep breath and started over. "I'm Chester."

"Cool. How old are you?"

"Eighteen." He replied, not bothering to mention that he was, in fact, turning nineteen in a little less than two weeks.

Ashley smiled warmly. "I'm sixteen in three months." When the conversation didn't continue, as Chester had no fucking clue what to say next, she inhaled sharply. "How long have you been singing?"

"Uhh..." it was at that moment that Chester realized that he really didn't know at what age he had started singing or showing an interest in music. It just sort of... happened. Music had been a part of his life as long as he could remember. "A long time," he said, trying not to physically cringe. "It's my passion," he added as well, trying to keep the awkwardness at bay.

"I can tell," she nodded toward the lyrics book and the guitar that was carelessly stored next to the closet, left leaning against the closet doors. "You're really good. Do you play?"

It took him a few seconds to realize that the last question was directed at the guitar, and he shook his head. "Nah, I'm shit."

"Oh really? Your dad told us you did stuff with music."

Chester didn't know what to do, or whether he was supposed to be annoyed at his dad for telling these kids, and probably his mother and stepfather as well, about the band he was in. "Yeah. I'm in a band with some friends. I'm the lead vocalist."

They sat in silence for a while, neither of them knowing exactly what to say. Suddenly, Chester's phone rang, startling both teenagers, and when the boy saw Mike's name as the caller, he sighed, tried not to smile (he didn't want Ashley to ask more questions), and picked up. 

"Chazzy?" 

Chester couldn't help but grin at the ridiculous nickname, and he could already see the questions on Ashley's face. He didn't look at her anymore, instead focusing on a poster of Nirvana which was hanging on the wall over his dresser. "Hey, Mike." He assumed the call would be about something like band rehearsals or a date they would be going on the following day, but it really wasn't like Mike to try and contact him at three (almost four) in the morning, so something must have been happening. "Why are you calling so early?"

It took a second for Mike to respond, and within that time period Chester's mind managed to produce approximately thirty-seven horrible scenarios that would be the backstory to this call. Of course, he doubted any of them would be true, but nevertheless he bit his lip and waited anxiously. "I had a nightmare."

"Oh." Well, it was better than Mike's house being set on fire or his entire family being kidnapped, but it was still bad, because Chester had experienced a lot of nightmares in his lifetime. "Do you want to talk about it?" His eyes flicked back to the girl, seeing her about to say something, and held up a finger to let her know he had to spend a moment talking on the phone.

"Not necessarily."

"Okay." Chester could understand that. It wasn't often that he wanted to talk about his own nightmares either, no matter how bad they were, so he wasn't going to push the matter any further.

"I called because it had something to do with you and I had to hear your voice." Mike's tone was solemn and his voice was shaky, signaling he was close to tears, or, extremely emotional. "I had to know you were okay."

Chester sighed; he assumed he had been somehow injured or killed in the nightmare, and since this had happened to him with some people in his own dreams, he knew how much he didn't want to talk about events like that and how badly they stressed him out, so he didn't expect Mike to tell him either. "I'm okay, Mike. I'm okay."

There was a deep exhale from the other side, then the voice returned. "I'm glad. I mean, it's good that you're okay."

"Yeah, it's good." Chester repeated, nodding although he knew Mike couldn't see him. "Are you okay?"

"I will be."

"Okay."

"... Okay."

Chester laughed softly, hearing noises of relief and amusement coming from Mike's side of the call. "Are we still on for tomorrow?"

Mike had asked him the day before if he wanted to go see a movie on Sunday, and since Chester couldn't remember the last time he had gone to a movie theater with someone, and he had nothing better to do, he agreed to go. He was a little unsure at first, because movie theaters weren't his favorite place in the world, but Mike offered to buy him snacks and by then he was on board completely. He still didn't know the exact movie they were seeing, either, but he trusted Mike's decision-making and he knew he would get free food, so it didn't even matter much.

"Of course," Mike said quickly. "Why wouldn't we be? I already bought the tickets."

"No reason." Chester laughed again. "See you tomorrow, then."

"See you tomorrow." There was a long pause. "... I love you, Chaz."

Chester contemplated whether he wanted to say those words back with Ashley in the room, because if she wasn't suspecting anything from the conversation already, that statement would confirm it for her. But Mike was his boyfriend, and he did love him, so he cleared his throat. Fuck it. "I love you too."

Mike hung up first, and when Chester turned to look directly at the girl again, he expected disgust, confusion, and maybe even anger, but he didn't see any of that. What he did see was understanding and acceptance, and it affected him more than it should have, enough that he was speechless for a moment or so. Ashley grinned at him, eyes sparkling. "Was that your boyfriend?"

"Yeah," he said, after regaining his ability to speak. "Yeah, that was my boyfriend."

"Cool, cool." She grinned wider, nodding absently. "We should have a double date with me and my girlfriend."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a long time, I know. I'm sorry lol, but life isn't being kind to me at the moment and I needed some time. Writing didn't come easy either, and I only got the motivation to write three days ago. Since then I've been working on this chapter on and off, since I wasn't motivated for long periods of time, and it was extremely frustrating because I wanted to get this chapter done and updated.
> 
> Anyway, here it is. It's not very good. There are probably mistakes all over the place, since I didn't edit it myself and I didn't have anyone else edit it. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.
> 
> Enjoy, I suppose.

If there was one thing that Chester was positively not looking forward to, which, was unfortunately coming up quickly, was prom. Prom at this school was an event that anyone from any grade could go to, unlike in other schools, where prom was reserved just for the seniors. For the last three years, Chester had stayed home and wrote songs rather than forcing himself to go and sit in a gymnasium with cheap decorations, greasy food, surrounded by sweaty teenagers for around three or four hours. Prom was a waste of time, in his mind.

It didn't have to do with the fact that no one had ever asked him. 

Not at all.

But, alas, here it was: the prom season. The end of the year was rapidly approaching, and now the hallways of the school were filled with ecstatic kids planning their outfits and gushing about which people they wanted to go with. Chester avoided it at all costs, and since before this year he hadn't had any actual friends he talked to on a regular basis, avoiding the topic of prom was extremely easy. However, today, as he slid into the bench beside Mike, and saw Joe gesticulating widely and talking animatedly with the others, he knew the topic was soon to come up, and he would have to sit through it all.

As predicted, Joe was talking about buying a suit. "I asked Heidi today, and she said yes, and we're going shopping for her dress over the weekend," he was saying, and Chester faintly recalled Heidi as being the pretty Asian girl who sat two rows in front of him in his English class. He had no idea Joe liked her, but he wasn't about to interrupt his excited rant to voice that thought.

"That's great," Rob piped up, stuffing a cheese sandwich into his mouth. "I might be going with this girl from my math class."

At that point Chester was completely ignoring their conversation, as he had no interest in the topic, and instead pulled out his chemistry binder, intending to actually get something done before the end of the period. Of course, he had been steadily, though slowly, increasing his averages, and it actually looked like he would pass his classes and be allowed to graduate, but recently he'd been slacking in the homework department, so he hoped he would get at least one assignment in that week. He heard Mike joining the discussion, and even felt the younger boy shift closer to him, close enough so that their shoulders just brushed each other's. He didn't really understand the questions, so he pulled out his phone, figuring that googling the answers wouldn't hurt just this once, and he was about to click on a website when he heard his own name and snapped his head up, somewhat in shock that they were talking to him.

"Chester, are you going with anyone?"

All eyes were on him, and he considered not answering at all, but he didn't want the guys to think he didn't want to talk to them (he didn't, but that's not the point). "I might not even go," he said, shrugging.

He could see Joe practically go into cardiac arrest at the news, his eyes bulging in absolute disbelief. "What? Dude, it's your senior year, you have to go!"

"I dunno. There's no one to go with." He would've mentioned Mike if the two of them were alone, but at the last second he realized that the rest of the group had no idea they were together, and decided that it would be wise not to say anything about that.

"It doesn't matter if you have a date or not. Just go with your friends!" Joe motioned (somewhat violently) in Brad's general direction. "Look, he's not going with anyone either, so you won't be alone!"

"Wow, thanks," Brad said, voice laced with sarcasm, but everyone ignored him.

"I guess." Chester's eyes flicked back to his phone screen, and finally clicked on a random link, scrolling through it, desperate for any kind of distraction. 

Luckily, no one pushed the subject, and they talked with each other for the rest of the lunch period, not bothering him, for which Chester was incredibly grateful for. When they left, Mike squeezed his shoulder, hand lingering there as he leaned in so his mouth was by Chester's ear. "Meet me by the bleachers after school, okay?" He flashed him a blinding grin and glided off, following Joe, Rob and Brad as they headed to their next class. Chester touched the spot on his shoulder where Mike had touched him, and smiled, shaking his head. Of course it was the bleachers. It was only the most cliche place to meet (note the sarcasm), but Chester wasn't going to complain either way.

The rest of the day dragged along. He never gave in the chemistry assignment, realizing that he had never finished it when he got to class. Like always, he was bored, and nearly fell asleep a few times, but, coincidentally, when the bell rang to signal the end of the school day, he was suddenly revitalized with some kind of sudden energy. Absently stuffing his books into his bag, Chester speedwalked through the halls, watching cautiously for suspected bullies, and when he found the coast was clear, he raced through the hallway, slowing to a jog as he reached the back doors of the school. These led to the sports arenas of the school, and, well, also the bleachers. He spotted Mike right away, sitting right at the top of one of the bleachers farthest from where Chester currently was, and as he made his way there, he could see that Mike was holding something as well.

He couldn't tell what it was from where he was, but as he began climbing the steps to the top of the bleachers and Mike noticed him, standing to greet him with a large smile, it began to look like a small book. A book? 

"Hey, you," Mike said affectionately, embracing the smaller boy warmly, then kissing him on the cheek. 

Chester grinned, turning his head and bringing him into another kiss, this time on the mouth. He couldn't believe what he saw when he looked at how much more confident he had gotten around Mike, especially remembering the first few days they had known each other. Back then he hadn't even wanted to text him with the fear of bothering him or saying something wrong, but now he would actually initiate the physical contact. It was incredible, really, considering the fact that he usually disliked when his own father touched him. 

They sat down next to each other, feet propped up on the step right below them. "Why are we up here again?"

"I thought it would be a nice place to talk."

Chester raised an eyebrow. "To talk? About what?"

Mike shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip. He was wringing his hands together, which was a nervous habit of his. "I just feel like we haven't gotten much alone time recently, you know?"

"Oh," Chester nodded, reaching over to link their hands together, stopping Mike from messing with his hands. "I agree."

"Good."

"Are you going to prom?"

Mike looked up, eyes widening when he realized the question was directed at him. "I mean, I'll go if you're going. That's actually what I wanted to ask you about."

That's the moment when Chester thought about the situation, and assumed that the younger boy was planning to ask him to go to prom with him, and for some reason he was conflicted. Of course he was flattered, if that was what Mike was going to do, but another side of him was against it, because he really disliked parties like that. Mostly because of the kids. And the music. Kids had terrible music tastes at this school (other than his friends, obviously). And he hated socializing, especially if it meant sitting in a gym and spending the entire time by the food. He would much rather not go at all. 

He blinked, feeling Mike squeeze his hand to bring him back to reality. "So? Do you wanna go with me?" When he saw the look on Chester's face he was quick to add: "We don't have to go together if you don't want to."

"No, no, I would want to go with you, but..." he paused, swallowed, then shook his head and started over. "I don't really want to go at all, honestly."

"Really?" Mike looked somewhat relieved. Chester didn't get why he would look that way, as he always thought his boyfriend (he was beginning to get used to the word) liked to go to such events. Maybe he was mistaken? "I'm glad you don't want to go, because I don't want to go either."

Chester blinked, running a hand through his bleached hair. He hadn't been expecting that. "What?"

"I dunno. At first I wanted to go but I'd rather spend that time doing something with you, and since you don't want to go, I won't go. Besides, Joe and Rob will both have dates, and Brad will probably be trying to get at some of the girls there anyway, so I wouldn't have anyone to talk to if you didn't go." Mike was blushing, and Chester was sure his cheeks were slightly flushed as well, because that was one of the sweetest things Mike had ever said to him. Ever.

"Well, then," he began softly, squeezing the younger boy's hand tightly. "Let's go somewhere else."

"Okay."

"Okay."

It would've been the perfect moment, honestly, only beaten by that time they had their first kiss ever (that park would always hold a special meaning in his heart), because the sun was out and birds were chirping and Mike's eyes were so nice to look at... so mesmerizing. That's when Chester heard the faint click of a phone camera. His head whipped around, and he could hear a quick inhale of breath from Mike as the other boy noticed the three extremely familiar faces standing by the door of the school. They all had their phones out, pointed straight at them, and Chester could swear they were all super impressed and happy with themselves.

Oh, how he hated Jason. And his minions. But mostly Jason.

"Faggots!" Jason screamed out, and Chester actually flinched, feeling Mike stiffen beside him, and before he could do anything Mike was on his feet, fists clenched by his sides. 

"Delete those pictures!" He yelled back furiously, already descending the steps. "Delete them!"

"Already posted it," he could hear Kyle say, and the three of them laughed as if it was the funniest thing in the world, and disappeared through the doors. 

Mike didn't bother following them, instead calling out "Assholes!" and returning, very slowly, to where Chester was, still too overwhelmed to fully comprehend what had just happened. 

He could already feel the hot tears rising in his eyes, and his lip wobbled ever so slightly, and as Mike dropped down to sit next to him, wrapping his arm around the smaller boy's shoulders protectively, he exhaled deeply. "The entire school will see those pictures," Chester whispered, not trusting his voice enough to speak at a normal volume. He just wanted to go home.

"Yeah, probably." Mike didn't sound too good either, and considering what occurred mere seconds ago, it was reasonable to be shaken up.

"What will we do?"

Mike sighed, kissing Chester's forehead softly. "What can we do?"

"Dunno."

"Yeah."

They sat in silence for a little bit, not knowing what to say. Chester felt like he was watching a movie, but sadly it wasn't a movie at all. He wished Mike had chosen a different spot to talk, but he also knew it wasn't his fault. He hated this.

"We'll be okay, though." Mike's voice wavered a little, and Chester could tell he was trying not to break down into tears. Sometimes he felt like he knew Mike too well. "We'll be okay."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MYYYYYYY IT'S BEEN LITERAL MONTHS I'M SO SORRY I'M SUCH A FAILURE
> 
> but for real: i had no motivation or inspiration to continue writing this fic throughout the summer, which was when i planned to get a few chapters done. currently i'm a month back into school and this year is already way tougher than last year so i'm insanely busy. but today i sat down and finally finished this chapter after mONTHS and i hope you guys can forgive me and i hope i haven't lost all my readers hahahhah
> 
> anyway, i know this isn't the best chapter but enjoy!!

It really wasn't long until Chester started to see pictures of two people that looked suspiciously like him and Mike, sitting on the bleachers and looking all lovey-dovey and affectionate. He wondered exactly how long it had taken for Jason and his minions to spread their pictures around, because from the looks of it, they had gotten other people from the school involved in it too.

He skipped school the next day. He wasn't sick, but he constantly felt like throwing up when he thought of people staring at him, laughing and pointing. He would just rather stay out of it until it sort of... blew over. Honestly, he wasn't sure if avoiding it was a good choice, but when he texted his dad to let him know he wasn't at school, he didn't question anything, and Chester was free to stay at home. 

Social media was something that needed to be avoided at all costs either way, because though Chester didn't have much followers from the school, he did know that those pictures were being spread like wildfire, and sooner or later they would show up somewhere. 

His phone buzzed. He wasn't in the mood to check it, so he just looked away, flipping through his lyrics book for possibly the fifth time today. 

In a way, he missed Ashley, who had left a few days ago to go back home. He didn't miss the rest of his mother's new family, but Ashley had been pretty cool, and occasionally he even texted her, as they exchanged contact information right before she left. However, she wasn't here now, so Chester had no one with him. Normally he would have called Mike and asked him to come over, which happened often recently, but he knew Mike was probably at school, so he didn't want to disturb him. Besides, if Mike wanted to talk, he would text him first.

The songs didn't seem to be satisfying his boredom, so Chester got up with a grunt, sliding the book back into its place on the shelf, then headed downstairs to the kitchen. He wasn't one to eat because of boredom, but right now he had nothing else to do, and he was trying to avoid his phone as much as possible, so now he dug around in the fridge, looking for something that was suitable for a snack.

The phone rang suddenly, and Chester ignored it, assuming it was some kind of advertisement for something, but when it kept ringing, eventually he shut the fridge and went to it, picking it up regretfully. "Hello?"

"Are you home?"

"Mike?" 

"Yeah. Are you home?"

Chester swallowed thickly. He had no idea whatsoever as to why Mike would be calling him, unless he had something to say about the photo situation. "Yes. Why-"

"Can I come over? Is your dad there?" Mike's voice sounded thick, as if he was trying really hard not to burst into tears.

"Yeah, sure. I'm alone."

There's a few incoherent noises on the other line, and Chester waited for a reply. "Okay."

"See you."

*****

Chester jumped up from the couch immediately when he heard the doorbell ring out. He had sat there stiffly, heart pounding, for the last ten minutes, waiting for Mike to arrive. He had never heard Mike so broken before.

Mike stood on the doorstep, eyes reddened and swollen, his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked horrible. Chester swallowed. "Oh man, you look horrible."

Mike managed a small grin. It looked as if it pained him to even smile, and Chester's stomach lurched in fear. 

"Thanks," Mike croaked. He had obviously been crying, but Chester had enough self-control to not mention that, no matter how much he wanted to ask. 

"Are you okay?" 

Mike shrugged slightly. "Dunno. Not really. When is your dad going to be home? Will he care that I'm here?"

Chester shook his head. "Don't worry, he won't care." He bit his lip and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, not knowing what else to say. "Do you want to go upstairs?"

"Yeah!" Mike exhaled. "Yeah. That'd be great."

*****

Chester was nearly halfway through singing his fourth song of the day when Mike cleared his throat and rubbed his temples. 

"My dad found out," he said quietly, refusing to meet Chester's eyes. "I came home and he was waiting for me by the door. Somehow he saw the picture Jason posted, and he was super mad. Like really mad. Furious. He threatened to beat me up and threatened me with a knife and everything. I-" he gulped, and took a shuddering breath. Chester couldn't breathe. "I was terrified and my mom was trying to stop him and get involved but he kept threatening her too and I couldn't let her get hurt, you know? And then we had this huge argument about how I was a disappointment and how he hated my guts and all that." Mike looked up suddenly, his deep, dark eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Chester, he kicked me out."

"Jesus Christ." Chester ran a hand over his bleached blond spikes. His heart was pounding and it felt like he was being choked, not able to breathe correctly. "Jesus Christ."

"Yeah." By now Mike was crying fat tears and it took all of Chester's willpower to not start ugly crying too. "I don't know what to do."

"You can stay with me." 

Mike blinked. "What? Chester, you don't-"

Chester leaned in and cut him off with a swift kiss, then moved back on the bed and smiled comfortingly. "I know I don't have to, Mike. I want to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was not edited whatsoever so sorry for any mistakes or anything! idk when the next chapter will be posted but i haven't given up on this story yet, so stay tuned!!


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